


Trust

by writergirl7



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU Hannibal, Captivity, Caretaking, Cooking, Dressing, Dubcon Cuddling, Gen, Grooming, Hand Feeding, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Messed up probably, Non-Consensual Touching, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-08-22 12:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 82,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl7/pseuds/writergirl7
Summary: After a paper appears on Will's empathy disorder, psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter decides to conduct an experiment on Will to prove the paper wrong.  Will does not take kindly to being kidnapped and held captive, but his captor is...kind?





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was chilly, wherever he was. From the lack of sound and ever-so-faint musty smell, he figured he must be in a basement. He could tell that it was well-maintained and regularly cleaned space, but it was still a space where you put something until you needed it for later. It wasn’t as cold as it was outside so there had to be heat coming from somewhere, but it was still cold enough to give him goosebumps. Whoever had taken him had also taken his coat, scarf, and gloves, which sucked, but at least his feet were still in socks--thermal socks, thank goodness--and shoes.

Occasionally he would hear a creak or footsteps overhead, which meant that he wasn’t alone in the building. He could hear nothing else, except for a bird singing, at one point. Seeing was a non-issue, since he couldn’t see. He’d been blindfolded well and securely and he had yet to manage to get it off. He’d woken up that way and his first jolt of fear on waking had been that whomever had taken him had taken his eyes.

There was most likely no shortage of people ready and willing to do that. Thanks to Freddie Lounds, he’d become known as “Killer Catcher Will Graham--one look at a crime scene and he knows all their secrets!” He’d only been working with the BAU and Jack Crawford for six months, but the word was out. Two killers had recently staged crime scenes so out there and patently disturbed that Will had been able to classify them as cries for attention and/or help from deeply needy and twisted souls. The last man they’d caught had actually asked if he, Will, thought he’d done a good job of his last kill.

Will had been unable to eat or sleep for about two and a half days after that, and Jack had become so concerned that he’d driven Will to the hospital to see he was cared for. Will could tell the psychiatrist he’d talked to had found him fascinating, so after a week he’d checked out AMA. No, Dr. Wallace wasn’t going to be able to dig his fingers into Will’s brain anymore. 

The most infuriating thing about the whole experience was that someone had forgotten to give Wallace and his staff the NDA’s that were supposed to be given out anytime someone from the Bureau was checked into a non-governmental facility. The paper on Will that had appeared a month after he’d left Dr. Wallace’s tender care had been upsetting, to say the least. What had really bugged him had been the public interest in it. If a psychology paper could be said to have gone viral, then that one certainly had. There was talk of adding a new diagnosis to the DSM because of that stupid paper, and Will was thankful that only a few people outside of the Bureau had been able to work out the subject of it. He’d been “John Smith” in the paper, but people at the Bureau who’d read it had been able to figure it out who “Mr. Smith” was. A few of them had been some of his students, and since then, all of his students had been treating him as if he were something fragile.

The guy who’d taken him hadn’t treated him that way. He’d been tackled from behind on an empty city street, wrestled to the ground, and injected with something. He’d woken up blindfolded, handcuffed, and secured to a chair in a basement. He’d not been gagged, so that argued that there was no one near enough to hear him if he yelled. That meant that it was unlikely that no one, aside from his murderer, who would hear his murder. It would be a long one, certainly, and bloody and painful, but at least he could look forward to being dead at the end of it. He was sure that all of Freddie Lounds’s articles and that damned paper had pushed his would-be murderer into action. He would need to stop the eyes that could see his secrets.

He only hoped that someone--Jack, Alana, someone from the Bureau--thought to check up on him and that they would take pity on his dogs and see they were taken care of. They didn’t deserve to starve to death just because he wasn’t there to feed them.

He should have been more careful. He knew the nature of his work was dangerous and that it could cause trouble for him, but he hadn’t been thinking of that--how long ago was it now? How long since he’d stopped for a cup of coffee at that little cafe? How long since he’d been kidnapped? No, he hadn’t been thinking of his safety. He’d been thinking of how tired and hungry he’d been all day and that he’d just have to get up and go through it all again tomorrow--and he’d been knocked out and kidnapped. What was it they’d said during police training? Without ensuring your safety, you were as good as dead, under threat or not.

The sound of a door opening snapped him out of his thoughts and he felt his body tense. Whoever it was was coming. Footsteps down wooden stairs. Footsteps on stone or concrete, coming closer. “Hello, Will.”

He hadn’t expected the friendly, affable voice. The man had an accent he couldn’t place and he could smell the guy’s cologne. Before, he’d doubted that anyone could say that something smelled expensive, but this cologne did. Will turned his head in the direction of the voice. “Where am I?”

“My home,” the voice told him. “The drug is still in your system so you’ll feel a little woozy for a while yet, but you’ll suffer no long-term effects. I know for certain you’re thirsty since you’ve been out for so long. Would you like some water?”

What...the...hell? “A kidnapper who offers water?”

“It would be remiss of me to allow you to suffer dehydration, Will,” the voice said as a cup was put to Will’s lips. “Just try a few sips. I promise that I’ve done nothing to it.”

Since his thirst was nearly painful, Will swallowed a few sips of water, but those few sips weren’t enough. He wondered if these few sips had been allowed just to torment him. “May I have some more water?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

“Of course, Will. I’ll be just a moment.”

Footsteps retreated and went up the stairs, and a minute later they returned, with a full glass of water. Will finished off half of it before it was taken away. “You’re drinking too quickly and you may make yourself sick,” the voice cautioned him. “That’s enough for now. You can have some more later. Now, if you agree to not try to overpower me or attempt to escape, then I will release you from the chair and take you upstairs and give you dinner. Would that be acceptable?”

Will blinked behind the blindfold. It had finally happened; the strain of being kidnapped had been too much for his mind to handle: he was going crazy. “Dinner?”

“It’s almost ready, and I’m sure you’re hungry,” the voice told him. “I’m surprised the aroma of it hasn’t made its way down here. For dinner this evening, I’ve prepared something very simple, roast chicken with gravy, mashed potatoes, and peas and carrots in a sauce. Along with that I have some fresh rolls that have just come out of the oven, and for dessert I’ve made a simple chocolate mousse with fresh fruit. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Will’s stomach was sure, too. It let out an almighty growl and wrapped itself around his backbone. When was the last time he’d eaten?

“I can tell that your stomach is urging you to make the right decision,” the voice chuckled. “Do I have your word, Will, that you’ll behave if I let you loose from the chair?”

Perhaps the food was poisoned. Maybe that was the way he’d go out. If that was true, then at least he’d die with a full stomach. “All right. You have my word.”

A pause. “I’ll hold you to it.”

The ropes holding Will to the chair were untied and hands helped him to his feet. He raised his hands to remove the blindfold, but two hands grasped his to stop him. “You’re not to remove the blindfold, Will. You’ll wear it for the rest of the evening and it will remain until you fall asleep tonight.”

“‘Sleep well, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning,’” Will quoted, his woozy brain unable to stop itself.

“I don’t intend to kill you, Will. Do you think all your hosts intend to kill you?”

“Hosts?” Will said, his voice tight. “Hosts don’t handcuff you or tie you to a chair in their basement or leave you blindfolded…”

“It’s unorthodox, but my method has ensured the needed outcome. Now, we can stand here all night debating the situation if you wish, but I, for one, am hungry, and I know you are, as well. We can talk over dinner.”

“How am I going to eat with handcuffs on?” Will wanted to know as his “host” turned him.

“We’ll manage. Let’s go. I’ll guide you.”

It was the most surreal experience of his life to have this man guide him toward and then up the steps. “You’re doing fine, Will. Step up. Step up. Yes, just like that. Almost there. Almost there. Two more stairs. Perfect. Well done, Will.”

There was nothing remarkable in walking up a flight of stairs, but Will didn’t trust himself to say anything. His captor turned him to the right and Will let himself be guided. Finally, at last, he was warm. It was lovely and toasty upstairs, and he hoped it would stay that way. If he were very, very careful, he might just survive this. Let the guy think that Will was always going to obey him--let him get complacent. As soon as there was an opportunity to get away, Will was going to take it.

Will could feel himself being maneuvered around furniture and past open doorways to other rooms and then the voice stopped him. “Here we are. There’s a chair right behind you, Will. Have a seat.”

Will sat, relieved to find that there was a chair under him. The guy could have been a cruel prankster and he could have ended up on the floor, but there was a chair. He could feel that it was a large, sturdy one, upholstered on the seat and back. Immediately he felt his body relax a bit. It was comfortable.

Will jumped as he felt the man’s arms go around him. “I apologize for startling you, Will,” he said as something tightened and fastened around his chest. “Just getting you secure for the moment while I fetch dinner.”

Will raised his hands to feel a leather belt, but he couldn’t feel the buckle. It was most likely behind him, where he couldn’t reach it. The chair was pushed in so that Will’s hands were under the table, and then Will could hear footsteps walking away from him. Immediately he began to try to push the chair back, to get himself loose, but the chair was heavy and he was still feeling tired from that darned drug. He hadn’t managed to move more than an inch before the man was back and a savory smell flooded the room.

Without a word, the chair was pushed back in to its original position and Will heard the sounds of food being served up and put on a plate. He heard the clink of china and then the aromas of the food became overwhelming. There must be a plate right in front of him. There was a sound then, one of a chair being moved to sit beside him, and then the sound of cutlery on a plate. 

“Here we are, Will,” the voice said, and Will could smell something absolutely delicious right in front of his nose. “Open up.”

Shock made his mind stutter to a halt. “You’re going to...feed me?”

“How else would you eat?”

Will could smell the food coming closer and he turned his head. “You could release my hands. I’m not a baby.”

“For tonight, you’re just going to have to trust me. Now, I know you’re hungry. It’s time you had something to eat.”

Something in the guy’s tone told Will he wasn’t messing around, so Will took his courage in both hands and opened his mouth. A spoon went in, full of peas coated in a buttery herb sauce. He couldn’t help the sound of appreciation that escaped him at the taste.

“Good, isn’t it?” his captor said, spooning up more with a quiet clink against the china. “Ready for more?”

It was the strangest meal he’d ever had in his whole life, blindfolded and fed like a little kid. It was also one of the best, in terms of taste. The potatoes were creamy and buttery, and the gravy was savory and good. When he had his first bite of chicken, roasted to perfection and dipped in gravy, he couldn’t stop the little moan of enjoyment from escaping him. 

“I’m glad you like it,” his captor said as Will chewed and swallowed. “Ready for another bite?”

“Yes.” If he was going to get out of there, he needed the energy the food could give him.

So it continued, with Will being fed mouthfuls of chicken, potatoes, peas, and bites of buttered roll. Sometimes the bits of roll were dipped in the gravy and that made them taste even better. He could hear his captor feeding himself, as well, and every now and then a water glass would be put to his lips so he could take a sip of water. “Well done, Will,” the voice said after a short while. “You’ve finished everything on your plate. Feel up for some dessert?”

“Could we talk a bit before we have dessert?”

A chuckle. “No doubt you have questions. All right. Let me clear the table and we can talk.”

Will heard the dishes and serving dishes removed from the table and he turned his head as his captor walked away, trying to keep track of him. If he were lucky he’d be able to squirm his way out. He pushed back against the chair, shrugged his shoulders, trying to loosen the belt…

“Here we are,” he heard as his captor reappeared. “Chocolate mousse and a dish of fresh fruit. I think you’ll like it. Now, what was your first question?”

Will heard the dessert dishes placed on the table in front of him. “Why have you kidnapped me?”

“I read that paper on you,” his captor said as he took a seat after pushing Will’s chair back in. “I found myself agreeing with a few of Dr. Wallace’s conclusions and disagreeing with others. I disagreed with him that you would never have any close, meaningful connections and I disagreed with the fact that you would likely commit suicide after falling prey to the demons in your mind and becoming a killer yourself.”

Will felt himself cringe. He’d only read the abstract of the paper on Jack’s advice and he hadn’t read the rest. Now, he was glad he hadn’t.

“I think that if you learn how to make close, meaningful connections, then you can avoid such a fate,” his captor told him. “I brought you here to help you learn how to do that.”

“Close, meaningful connections and Stockholm Syndrome aren’t the same thing,” Will ground out, feeling his temper rise. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“But they can be remarkably similar,” his captor said. “You will depend on me for your meals, your clothes, a safe place to sleep, and companionship and intellectual stimulation. The same conditions can be found in a close relationship with another person. These conditions will also address another disagreement I had with Dr. Wallace’s conclusions: that you would refuse the chance to form such a connection, should it be offered. I think that after some time, you’ll want the connection.”

Will thought about what he was saying. This was insane. “How did you know who I was?”

“Anyone who’s visited the BAU in the last month would know,” the man told him, patting his shoulder, and Will flinched away. “I was asked there to help with a case and an acquaintance there told me about what had happened when I inquired about some rumors I heard some cadets discussing.”

“Have we met?”

“No, but you and I have a mutual acquaintance,” the voice admitted. “They don’t know what I’ve done or what I’ve planned, and it will stay that way. You’ll stay here, I’ll care for you, and soon you’ll come to care for me.”

Will started to shake his head. “No. No, you’re not going to keep me here. You’re not going to try to get me to form a relationship with you in some twisted experiment to prove Wallace wrong. I’m going.”

“By all means, if you’re able to leave, then you deserve to,” the voice told him, its tone amused. “I’ll overlook this defiance since it’s still your first day here, but I’ll allow the same only up to a point, so be advised. I’ll be sure to warn you if you approach the ends of my patience. Now, since it is still your first day with me, I’m willing to grant you a request, as long as it’s not to release you or remove the blindfold. You may ask what you like, and I’ll do my best to grant it.”

This just kept getting weirder and weirder, but Will thought about it. “My dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“I’ve got seven of them,” Will said. “Would you let them out? They don’t deserve to be locked in a house to starve to death while they’re waiting on me to come home.”

“Seven dogs?”

The shock in this man’s voice was almost comical. “Yes, seven. Please? I know you’ve searched my pockets; my wallet’s gone, so you know where my house is. Please, I’m ready to beg you.”

Another pat on his shoulder. “No begging is necessary, Will. I will make sure that your pets are taken care of--I’ll make arrangements for them so they are healthy, happy, and comfortable. You have my word on it.”

What else could Will do but take him at his word? “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, Will. Are you ready for dessert?”

Will nodded, trying not to fret. His dogs would be all right, wouldn’t they? He ate the fruit--mandarin oranges, kiwi, strawberries, and star fruit--and then the chocolate mousse and he had to pause for a moment after the first bite of that. “Oh, that’s so good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” his captor said, sounding pleased. “It’s one of my favorite recipes. Tell me, what do you like to read?”

“You’re going for polite conversation now?” Will asked, swallowing his present mouthful. 

“Just for planning purposes. Any favorite music?”

Will managed to deflect any answers until dessert was finished by asking what was in the mousse. His captor had chuckled, clearly knowing what he was doing, but he answered all of Will’s questions. Finally the last bit of dessert was a memory and will leaned back in his chair, replete.

“You look like a man who’s just had a very good meal.”

Will snapped out of his momentary reverie. “It’s the best I’ve had for a while,” he said honestly. “Do you cook like this all the time?”

“Oh, yes. I have a passion for the culinary arts. Now, it’s getting late, and you must be tired. I’ll take you to your room.”

Will thought about one case of Stockholm Syndrome where the captor had forced the captive to share a bed with him and decided to count his blessings in this instance. At least he was getting his own room. He was released from the chair and helped to his feet and a hand under his elbow turned him in the right direction. Soon he was being led up some stairs, down what felt like a hallway, and through a doorway. 

“Here we are,” the captor said brightly. “You’ll see it when you get up in the morning, but I’ve done my best to make it comfortable for you. I think you’ll like it. Now, would you like a bath this evening to help you relax, or would you prefer to shower on your own in the morning?”

Will’s brain put the words together, realized what they meant, and started screeching in alarm. This guy was planning on helping him bathe if he chose a bath! “I usually shower in the morning.”

“All right. Let’s get you settled for bed.”

Will wanted to die from embarrassment. His kidnapper was going to put him to bed. He was supervised while he brushed his teeth, he was given a hot, damp washcloth to clean his face with (although the blindfold made that a challenge), and his hands were released at last so he could change into some pajamas. He was pointed in the right direction so he could use the toilet and given his privacy, for which he thanked his lucky stars. He thought briefly of removing the blindfold and trying to run for it, but he knew that his kidnapper was just outside the door, waiting for such a move. He managed to fumble through washing his hands and located a towel with little trouble, and before his hands were dry the kidnapper was back, helping him.

“This way, Will,” the man said, leading him out of the bathroom.

“This would be a lot simpler if I could just take off this stupid blindfold,” he muttered.

“You need to trust me tonight, Will,” his captor returned. “Having you rely on me to be your eyes is the best way to do that. Now, turn to face me, and sit down.”

Will did as he was told and found himself sinking into something soft and warm. A bed.

“Go ahead and lay down, Will,” his captor coaxed. “I’m sure you’re tired.”

He wasn’t tired; he was exhausted. “Is whatever you used to drug me still in my system?”

“Some remnants, yes,” his captor said as Will dropped into the pillows behind his head and he smoothed the comforter over Will. “That and all the upheaval you’ve experienced today has worn you out. Make yourself comfortable.”

Will was already shifting about, trying to settle himself. He froze when he heard a noise. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing a chair over to your bed. I’m going to sit with you until you drop off. Why don’t I read to you?”

Will couldn’t believe his ears. “A kidnapper who tucks you into bed and reads you a bedtime story. This situation is one for the textbooks, and then some.”

A chuckle. “Perhaps. Just relax, and listen.”

“May I know your name?”

“How remiss of me not to tell you before,” his captor said, sounding truly surprised. “It’s Hannibal.”

“Hannibal?”

“Yes.”

“Were your parents fans of ancient Rome or something?”

“It’s an old family name.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Now listen. Villette, chapter one: Bretton. My godmother lived in an ancient house in the clean and ancient town of Bretton. Her husband’s family had been residents there for generations, and bore, indeed, the name of their birthplace--Bretton of Bretton: whether by coincidence, or because some remote ancestor had been a personage of sufficient importance to leave his name to his neighbourhood, I know not.”

Will let his thoughts drift while his captor’s--while Hannibal’s voice rose and fell in the background. He could feel himself falling asleep already. In the morning, he would have to figure out where he was and how he could get way, but for the moment, he was content to lie there and relax. The morning would come soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Will woke up the following morning so cozy and comfortable that for a few minutes he failed to remember just what was wrong. There was a vague feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn’t remember just what it was. The bed he was in was soft, almost embracing his sleepy body, and the pillow behind his head cradled it perfectly. He was so comfortable that he could feel himself starting to fall back to sleep.

A sound made him jerk awake fully and as he sat up the events of the day before rushed back to him. He was on his feet within a second and looking around the room, making sure his captor was not there.

It took him a few minutes to really see what he was seeing, and his brain refused to put it together so he could understand it in his present context. What he saw was a pleasant room. Provided by his kidnapper. 

Nope, thought about in that way, it didn’t make any more sense. Still, he was seeing...what he was seeing. There was the double bed he’d just left, with its fluffy comforter and multitude of pillows. For a moment his brain wondered just what thread count the sheets were and then it snapped back to the matter at hand. He noted a table and chairs in front of a shelf--what was on the shelf? It looked like...what? Will wished he had his glasses, but they had disappeared with the advent of the blindfold, which was now gone. He moved closer to the shelf and spotted some jigsaw puzzles, puzzle books, crafting materials for tying flies...how had Hannibal known that he liked to tie flies...wait a second! Those were from his house!

“Rat bastard,” Will muttered, examining the tying supplies and tools. Yep, they were all there, everything he needed to tie flies, all of them from his desk at home. He really hoped that one of the dogs had bitten Hannibal, but ten to one they’d just swarmed him asking to be petted. It made sense that Hannibal would pick up some supplies for a hobby to keep him occupied while he’d been at Will’s house, but it kind of galled him that Hannibal had helped himself to it all without so much as a by-your-leave. He sighed. At least Hannibal had been considering Will’s mental well-being. 

Will examined everything else and found it enlightening. It looked like there would be times when Hannibal would leave him to amuse himself, hence the items he could use to do it. In addition to the jigsaws, puzzle books, and fly tying supplies, there were two drawing pads, a pad of very thick paper, charcoal and color pencils, paints and brushes, and a bunch of wooden games for one player or two. The top shelf held some CDs and a CD player, with none of the music he really liked. These must be from Hannibal’s collection: what a music snob. Opera? Concertos? Symphonies? Will knew no one aside from music professors who would listen to such things by choice, not that he knew many music professors.

The shelf on the next wall was stuffed from top to bottom with books. He looked and most of them were classics, along with a few mysteries and Western stories, but the books of poetry made him pause and shake his head. Of course Hannibal would include poetry. After seeing his taste in music, Will supposed that a taste for poetry would be a given.

Other furniture in the room included a nightstand next to the bed and an easy chair next to the window with a lamp behind it so he could read. There was an old-fashioned analog alarm clock on the nightstand and Will noted that the CD player included a radio. There wasn’t a television or computer, unfortunately. 

There were three doors in the room. Will tried the one nearest one and it turned out to be the bathroom. There was a tub, a separate shower stall, two sinks, and the much necessary toilet. Will used it, washed his hands, and examined all the drawers and cupboards in the bathroom. He found toiletries in the drawers by the sink, a brush and comb, nail clippers for his hands and feet, a hair dryer, an electric shaver, and even aftershave. In the freestanding cupboard there were towels, washcloths, and hanging on the back of the door there was a terry bathrobe. The rugs under his bare feet were a delight to touch and Will found himself a touch resentful of the fact that he liked them.

Will left the bathroom and tried the next door. In it was a walk-in closet and he just had to stare at everything for a few minutes. On the back wall was a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and on the wall to to the right of it was a chest of drawers. Beside the chest of drawers was a shoe rack, holding loafers, sneakers, dress shoes, and even a pair of slippers. Above the shoe rack was a cubby system holding folded sweaters and jeans. On the wall opposite there were two closet rods, the upper holding dress shirts, casual shirts, and blazers on hangers and the bottom one holding pressed dress pants and khakis on hangers. There was a pull-out tie rack loaded with ties and in the corner by the doorway was a coat stand holding a light jacket and a heavier winter coat. Gloves, a scarf, and a hat had been draped over one of the hooks and Will noted that a pair of snow boots were in the shoe rack. Hannibal planned on taking him outside. That was good. 

Will opened the top drawer of the chest of drawers and paused in shock as two pairs of sunglasses, five watches, fine leather and dress gloves, and three pairs of cufflinks met his gaze. There were also several belts and a stack of white handkerchiefs. In a box in the corner of the drawer he found a lint brush and that almost triggered a giggle fit. Did that guy expect him to dress to the nines every day and brush himself down? Yeah, that would be a conversation for the ages. Will checked the other drawers and found undershirts, boxers, briefs, and socks.

What kind of kidnapper provided you with a complete and undoubtedly expensive wardrobe? Once again, this was something his brain couldn’t process. The third door was locked, so that had to be the door to the hallway. Will shook his head and headed back into the bathroom to take a shower to wake himself up. Fifteen minutes later he was drying off using a towel softer than any blanket he’d ever owned and feeling more human. He wrapped up in the robe and headed for the closet, dressing with lightning speed. Hannibal might have left all those dress clothes in there, but he wasn’t planning on wearing any of those. Hannibal was going to get a jeans and sweater Will. He pulled on socks and found an appropriate pair of shoes and returned to the bathroom to towel dry and comb his hair. When he left the bathroom he found a note sitting on the table and the door to the hall standing open.

Dear Will,

Good morning. Please put your room in order before you come downstairs. I’ll see you at the breakfast table and you and I can talk over breakfast.

Hannibal 

“Talk over breakfast?” Will muttered, putting the note down. “Who does he think he’s kidding?”

He looked around his room while he thought. His door was unlocked. He could get downstairs on his own. If he could find the front or back door, he could get away. Needing time to think about it, Wil hung up the towels he’d used, the nightclothes from the night before, and made his bed. Yes, he was certain he could pull it off, especially if his kidnapper was distracted with putting breakfast on the table. Remembering how cold it had been the day before, he pulled on the heavy coat, the gloves, hat, and scarf. He might have to walk a ways before he could get warm again, so it was best to be prepared. Stepping quietly, he headed down the hall and down the steps. The house was quiet as he reached the bottom stair and he stopped to get his bearings. Through an open doorway he could see a dining room--that was probably where he’d had dinner the night before. There was a hallway...where was the way out?

Will started exploring, keeping his eyes open for Hannibal. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of himself in a floor to ceiling mirror and mistook his reflection for Hannibal, despite not knowing what the guy looked like. Shaking off his fright, Will continued through the house and at last located the front entryway. He tried the knob and nearly fell over in shock when it turned and the door opened. A second later he was out the door and pelting toward the lawn, heading for freedom, but his flight for liberty was short-lived as he barreled headlong into someone else coming around the corner of the house.

“Ooof!” he heard as he bashed right into someone’s chest. “Well! Good morning, Will! I didn’t expect such an enthusiastic greeting!” 

Hannibal enclosed him in a bear hug and rocked back on his heels, fighting to keep them on their feet. He set Will firmly on his feet and smiled at him. “Did you sleep well?”

Numbly, Will nodded. 

“Did you want to take a bit of a walk before breakfast?” Hannibal asked, his tone still friendly. 

Will looked around. He could see trees surrounding the house and a gravel driveway, but he couldn’t see the road that it led to.

“It’s three quarters of a mile down that driveway to the road,” Hannibal said, following his gaze. “There is a wall around the property and an iron gate that’s opened by passcode. You won’t be able to climb either. If you wish to gambol about all day outside you certainly may, but I am hungry, and I’m sure you are, too. Why don’t we have breakfast?”

Putting an arm around Will’s waist, Hannibal took them both back inside the house. Meekly Will took off his outer wear and hung it in the entryway next to Hannibal’s things, and he followed Hannibal into the dining room.

“As you’ll have seen, we are rather isolated,” Hannibal said, motioning Will to one of the place settings, which, he was thankful to note, both had silverware. Will was going to be able to feed himself. “No noisy neighbors to bother us. You relax here and I’ll bring breakfast.”

Oddly in some corner of his brain Will recognized what he was feeling as shock. The last thing he’d expected had been running straight into his kidnapper’s arms and the experience had...well, led to this. He was sure that last night his brain had been denying what had happened, and now his brain had finally processed it and shock had set in. He had been kidnapped. The guy was clearly nuts and Will, at the moment, was at his mercy. He had no idea where he was or how far from civilization he was. He had no idea how he was going to get away or how to improve his situation. He was in a bad situation.

Don’t panic, he told himself sternly. Fear will do half his job for him. You’ve worked on kidnappings before, so think about your situation. He knew that kidnappers always took people for a purpose. The most common one was for financial gain, but this was not a kidnapping for ransom or extortion. So, the purpose was what he’d said last night: he intended to conduct an experiment and prove Wallace wrong about Will. All right. He could work with that. A person looking for a certain outcome almost always found it if they looked hard enough, so what if….what if…? Hmm. What if Will ensured the outcome or let Hannibal think that he’d gained that outcome? If he played along with Hannibal’s scheme while keeping within normal kidnapping victim behaviors and parameters, then it was possible that Will could turn the situation to his advantage. It would take time, certainly, but if a chance to escape came he could take it if he felt it necessary. He had drummed into cadets’ heads during classes on kidnapping time and again that the most important thing was to keep yourself safe and alive until you were either found or you had a chance to escape. Sometimes, that meant waiting, as difficult as it was.

“Here we are,” Hannibal said, coming through the door where Will could see the kitchen. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Hannibal placed the dishes on the table and disappeared again, bringing back two cups of coffee and placing one in front of Will before taking his own seat. “Did you sleep well, Will?”

Will looked at Hannibal and then back to the breakfast he had in front of him. It looked like eggs and sausage, and there was a rack of buttered toast on the table in front of him. “I didn’t think I would, but I did.”

“I’m glad,” Hannibal said, digging into his breakfast. “I hoped you would.”

Will picked up his fork and put it down again. He took a piece of toast and put it on the bread plate next to his place setting. “You’re really okay with me going outside?”

“Of course,” Hannibal assured him. “It’s not good for anyone to be cooped up inside all the time. You can spend as much time outdoors as you like; I just ask that you come in if it becomes very cold, rains or snows heavily, or if it’s a mealtime or time to sleep. If you’ll agree to abide by those rules, then I won’t confine you unnecessarily.”

Will’s temper flared. “This whole thing is unnecessary confinement!”

Hannibal gave him...well, a quiet look. It was the kind of look a predator gave prey that said that it wasn’t hungry...yet. “That’s as may be, but it’s how the situation stands, Will.”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Rule number one: always control your temper. “I’m sorry. I think I’m still…” Will paused and searched for the word. “Adjusting.”

“That’s perfectly all right, Will,” Hannibal said, suddenly sounding like the affable host again. “Are you not hungry?”

Will took a sip of coffee. “I’m trying to work up an appetite.”

“Upheaval can limit appetite,” Hannibal agreed. “Just take your time. If necessary, I can heat it up again for you, if it grows cold.”

Which meant Will would be at that table until he ate. Wonderful. Will put his napkin in his lap, just as Hannibal had, and picked up his fork. He started with the sausage and had to stop and savor the taste. “This is delicious,” he said, surprised that he felt the need to compliment his captor’s cooking.

“You’re most welcome, Will,” Hannibal said with that smile of his.

Surreptitiously, Will studied his “host.” The man was well-built, taller than he was, and he had European features. The accent alone argued for his being from somewhere in Europe--what was he doing in the States? What did he do? He was obviously rich, that was for certain, so where did he get his money?

“You look as if you have a great many questions, Will,” Hannibal said after sipping his coffee. “I’m happy to answer some of them, within reason.”

Will decided to just ask. “Where are you from?”

Hannibal smiled, as if Will’s question had surprised him. “Lithuania.”

Will blinked. Well, he’d been right on Europe. “And what brought you to the States?”

“Medical school,” Hannibal said, his tone still affable.

Will couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re a doctor?” That explained where the money came from.

“Yes.” 

“Do you still practice?”

Hannibal chuckled. “My license is current, if that’s what you mean. You needn’t worry about any sniffles or coughs you may get; I’m well-qualified to treat you if necessary.”

Will wondered what would happen if he tried to stab this smug bastard with a fork. “Doesn’t kidnapping a person go against the Hippocratic oath?”

“Not from my perspective,” Hannibal stated. “I took the liberty of examining you when I first brought you here. You are underweight and you show signs of malnourishment. Your teeth show signs of stress from you grinding them in your sleep. Your hands and nails show that you have a nervous habit of pressing back your cuticles with your nails, and sometimes you push on them so hard that you tear the skin and the tears bleed. Your shoulders are rounded not from being trapped at a desk, but from an unconscious desire to ward off the mental blows that you’ve been receiving from your work and an overwhelming world. I think that by bringing you here I have ensured that you will be protected from such detrimental circumstances.”

Hannibal’s little speech felt like being punched in the gut and Will put his fork down, appetite gone. “Next time, please ask my permission before you examine me.”

“If you are conscious, I certainly shall.”

Will began to shred his toast into pieces and sipped his coffee, his hands trembling a bit. “Are you going to make a habit of knocking me out?”

Hannibal looked at Will’s face, his hands, and back to his face. “Perhaps I should outline what the ‘rules’ are, so to speak.”

Will glanced up from his toast, which was now breadcrumbs that the birds might enjoy. “All right.”

“We are quite some ways from the nearest town, so it is likely that if you were to try to leave, I would find you before you could reach it,” Hannibal told him. “It’s best if you don’t try. You don’t know which direction to go to reach the town, and we’re just at the start of winter, so I don’t want to have to treat you for frostbite or hypothermia when I find you and bring you back. You may go outside if you wish; just don’t leave the grounds, and stick to the rules about that I outlined before. If you do manage to make it over the wall or gate, that will earn you a day in your room.”

Will stared at him. “You’re going to ground me?”

“Only if you leave the grounds,” Hannibal clarified. “Your room is your space, so you may arrange it as you wish, but I do ask that you keep it tidy. A tidy space is beneficial to one’s mental health.”

Will nodded. He’d read some psych studies on the same thing, but seriously, the guy sounded like a father lecturing his kid. 

“I’ll be the one making your meals and ensuring your clothes are cleaned, I’ll wake you in the morning and I’ll see you to bed at night,” Hannibal continued.

“See me to bed?”

“Like last night.”

“Ah, no,” Will said. “I can go to bed by myself.”

“This is something I’m going to insist on, Will,” Hannibal said. 

“Do you know how creepy that was, last night?” Will wanted to know. “I wanted to lock myself in the bathroom; it was so creepy.”

Hannibal blinked. “The bathroom doesn’t have a lock, Will.”

Again, Will contemplated using his silverware to stab him.

“All I’ll do is tell you to get ready for bed, and I’ll leave you to do it,” Hannibal said. “You won’t be blindfolded for it. Once you’re settled in bed, we’ll talk a bit about your day, and I’ll read to you until you drop off. That’s all.”

“It’s still creepy,” Will insisted. “I’m a grown-ass man, you know. I don’t need someone to put me to bed!”

“Another rule is to watch your language,” Hannibal said evenly, ignoring Will’s protest. “Too often, profanity is the recourse of lesser minds when they wish to lend their words some weight, and unfortunately, children pick up on these words and then use them when they’re grown. It makes some of them sound less than intelligent, and it makes all of them seem...well, less. You are better than such words and connotations, Will.”

Seriously, this guy was nuts. He was beyond nuts. He was so nuts that there wasn’t a word for what he was. Every adult in the world swore from time to time.

“No part of the house is closed to you, but I do ask that you knock before you enter my room, and that you not enter it if I am not there,” Hannibal continued, again ignoring Will’s reaction to his words. “If I am in my study, then I ask that you knock and wait for me to give you leave to come in before you enter. All right?”

Will nodded. What else could he do?

“Now, as to the pattern of our days,” Hannibal said. “I’ll wake you in the morning, you’ll wash and dress and put your room in order, and then you’ll come downstairs for breakfast. Once we have cleaned up from breakfast, you may do as you like with your time. You may read, amuse yourself in your room, go outside, or sit and talk with me. If boredom becomes crippling, I do have a television room, but I ask that you limit yourself so you don’t spend all your time watching it. After we eat and clean up from lunch, there will be a period of an hour or so where I will ask you to rest. You can settle yourself on a sofa or on your bed, but you do have to be lying down during this time. You may listen to music or read, if you wish, and then you’ll be allowed up to pursue your own activities. Dinner will be at six-thirty every night, and you and I will spend the evening together until it is time for bed.”

“What if I don’t feel like resting or spending the evening with you?” Will wanted to know.

“You’ll need human companionship, Will,” Hannibal said, looking at Will’s still-full plate. “Just like you need food.”

“I’ve always preferred the company of dogs, to tell the truth.”

How could one man look so amused and so affronted at the same time? He shrugged as if to say, Ah, well. One can’t have everything. “Well, as you’ve heard, I have no plans of knocking you out on a regular basis. Do you understand?”

Will nodded and took a bite of the eggs. What he really wanted to do was get up from that table and run like hell, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. He tried a few more bites of breakfast but gave up since his nerves were tying his stomach in knots. Hannibal had finished his breakfast long since and sat sipping coffee while he waited for Will to finish.

“What’s going to happen today?” Will asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Just what I told you,” Hannibal said. “You may spend your time as you wish; I thought you might like to explore the house or grounds this morning. If you like, I can give you a tour after we clean up from breakfast.”

Will decided to see how far he’d be able to test limits. “Would it be okay if I just wandered around on my own?” He expected Hannibal to refuse; most kidnappers preferred to keep rigid control over their captives.

“Of course. If you have any questions, you can ask me later.”

Will nearly dropped his coffee cup in shock. What was going on, here? To give himself time to think, Will drank some more coffee.

“Have you had enough to eat, Will?”

Will looked down at his half-full plate. “I don’t think I can eat anymore, so yes.”

“All right. Let’s clean up.”

It was surreal, helping his kidnapper wash and dry the dishes, but that was what he did. As soon as the last bit of silverware was put away, Hannibal told him that he could do what he wished. Needing no further encouragement, Will hurried to the entryway and pulled on his outdoor clothes and was outside. Instead of heading down the driveway, he headed into the trees. Eventually he’d get to the wall, and he would be far enough from the house that Hannibal wouldn’t see him when he headed for the gate.

The trees ended well before the wall, so there was no chance he could climb a tree and use it as a ladder over the wall. As soon as he got close enough to the wall itself, he could see why Hannibal had told him he wouldn’t be able to climb it. It was a stone wall, and each stone was rounded and smooth. None of them protruded far enough from the mortar to function as hand or toe-holds. Keeping the wall to his right, Will headed to the front of the property, and when he reached where the front and side wall met he attempted to wedge himself into the corner and hoist himself up, but he slipped each time he tried it. The wall itself was too high for him to take a running jump and no matter how he looked for one, there was no tree he could use to climb over it. What he did find were stumps where trees had been, and most of them looked freshly cut--Hannibal had planned ahead.

When he reached the front gate, he saw why Hannibal said he wouldn’t be able to climb over it, either. It was ornate, scrolling ironwork, polished to a smooth gloss and not a single gap in the gate was large enough to put a finger through, let alone his hand. He might be able to wedge some twigs in the scrollwork openings, but not the branches he would need to make an impromptu ladder. He found the keypad for the passcode, but how would he be able to figure it out? A nine digit pad like that could produce 362,880 combinations!

He explored the rest of the wall and he found similar conditions everywhere--it was too high and too smooth and too far from the trees for him to get over it. Intending to think about his situation, Will started wandering. In front of the house he found the withered remains of a butterfly garden, and on the side, he found a rectangular maze made out of holly bushes. It was almost as tall as he was and he wandered in it for a while, taking the turns until he found the center and then found his way back out. In the back of the house was an herb garden and in the center was a sundial. It was too cloudy for him to know what time it was, so he pressed on, wandering back into the trees that surrounded the house and gardens.

He had no idea how long he wandered around, lost in his thoughts, but he snapped out of it when he heard footsteps approaching him. Somehow he’d wandered back to the gate and was now sitting on the grass beside it, cold through. He was so cold he couldn’t even shiver.

Hannibal reached him and crouched down beside him. “It’s getting dark, Will. You didn’t even come in for lunch.”

Will glanced at him, then away. “Wasn’t hungry.”

Hannibal pressed his lips, as if his thoughts had been confirmed. “I understand. It’s time to come in now.”

Will didn’t move. “I want to go home.”

Hannibal waited. 

“Damn you and damn your dumb-ass experiment.” Will had not planned for how he was feeling and it was like some imp had possessed him to make him throw his strategy out the window and his rage was too much to handle. “You’ve got no fucking right to do this to me!” The next thing he knew he was on his feet and swinging on Hannibal, not caring what would happen to him as a result of his actions.

He should have known better. He’d been outside all day with hardly any food and he was tired from all the walking he’d done, not to mention stiff from the cold. Hannibal dodged the blow easily, caught his fist, and turned him so that he was trapped in a bear hug. “Sssshhhhh,” Hannibal soothed, holding him tightly. “Sshhhhhhh. It’s all right, Will. I understand why you’re angry, but I can promise how you’re feeling right now won’t last. Soon, you’ll accept being here and you’ll be happy.”

“Fuck you!” Will shouted, trying to twist away. “Let go of me!”

“Not until you’re calmer,” Hannibal said, his tone still soothing as Will fought his hold. “I’ll hold you until you’ve calmed down, and then we can go up to the house and have dinner, all right?”

A half-hour’s fight was all he had left in him and finally he let himself relax and lean against Hannibal. Without a word, Hannibal put an arm around his waist and led him up to the house, taking him inside and helping him off with his gloves, coat, scarf, and hat. Once he was inside he was warm enough to start shivering, so Hannibal took him to the dining room and made him sit down while he got him a warm drink. Will sipped at a hot cup of tea while Hannibal served dinner, and Will turned to the table to face a large bowl of potato soup with cheddar and crumbled bacon on top. Next to it was a spinach and walnut salad with a hot wheat roll with melting butter. Will managed most of the soup, half the salad, and then Hannibal brought him a hot apple cobbler with cream for dessert. He managed half of that before he declared himself full. 

“Do you feel warmer now?” Hannibal asked.

“‘Toasty’ is the word I’d use,” Will said, feeling oddly relaxed. He took another sip of the tea that Hannibal had poured him. It was light and sweet and although he’d didn’t know what it was, he liked it. Then, something occurred to him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “What sort of tea is this?”

“Passiflora, hops, and chamomile,” Hannibal told him. “All of them have relaxing properties and they can help you sleep.”

“You said you wouldn’t make a habit of knocking me out,” Will protested.

“And you’re still conscious,” Hannibal pointed out. “You’re just relaxed, now, and you’ll be relaxed enough so you can sleep. Help me clear the table?”

Still relaxed, Will did as Hannibal asked, and then Hannibal took him upstairs. “Shower or bath?” Hannibal asked as they reached Will’s room.

Will blinked. Need he ask? “Shower.”

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes, then.”

Will took the shower, dressed in the pajamas he’d left in the bathroom that morning, and made a beeline for his bed. He was exhausted and all he could think of was getting some sleep. He was just settling under the comforter when Hannibal was back. “Shall we carry on with Villette?”

Will nodded, not caring. Hannibal dragged a chair over, sat down, and opened the book, and Will fell asleep before he could do more than register the sound of Hannibal’s voice, reading aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. Second chapter. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

Will woke up to the sound of rain the next morning, and as soon as he remembered where he was, he started cursing under his breath. He wasn’t going to be able to find a way out of there in the rain. He got up to see how hard it was raining and sighed once he got a look outside. Two windows and both showed him that the rain was bucketing down. There was no way Hannibal was going to let him outside in that, not as cold as it was. He’d be soaked in under a minute. More to the point, he didn’t feel like going out in it.

Feeling put out with the world in general, Will showered, dressed, and put his room in order. He didn’t know why he did it, but at least it was something to do. His door wasn’t unlocked yet, so all he could do was wait.

Fifteen minutes later he heard the slightest sound as his door unlocked. He was on his feet and out the door in seconds, surprising Hannibal.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal said, turning to face him. “You’re up early.”

“The rain woke me and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” It was now awkward. Why hadn’t he stayed in his room?

Hannibal nodded. “I see. Well, since you’re already up and ready to face the day, would you like to help me prepare breakfast?”

He’d finally get to see Hannibal cook a meal. “All right.” Even more important, he’d be able to observe Hannibal for longer than just a few minutes. Perhaps he’d be able to get Hannibal to talk. The more he knew about his kidnapper, the better.

Will followed Hannibal downstairs and into the kitchen, where he was directed to wash his hands at the sink and to put on an apron. “What are we making?”

“For this morning, I’ve planned a menu of ham and mushroom omelettes with a side of French toast with blueberries, and some French roast coffee. How does that sound?”

Will’s mouth watered. “It sounds great. You really like cooking, don’t you?”

“It is a passion of mine, as I’ve said before,” Hannibal admitted. “Do you know how to clean mushrooms?”

“I can open a can of mushrooms,” Will said.

Will was beginning to understand that when something outraged Hannibal’s sensibilities, he got still and quiet and he blinked, as if he were struggling to assimilate the knew knowledge. “I never use canned mushrooms without good reason,” he said, taking a paper bag out of the refrigerator and opening it. He provided Will with the bag of mushrooms and a mushroom brush and showed him how to remove the dirt and then rinse each mushroom with a damp paper towel before patting it dry. He then showed him how to slice the mushrooms and left him to it.

“Do you cook this way for yourself even without a guest?” Will asked after he’d finished the mushrooms. He was amazed that Hannibal trusted him with a knife.

“Most mornings,” Hannibal admitted. “Sometimes, though, if I’m feeling lazy, I’ll just have some bread and butter or pastry with coffee and some hard-boiled eggs. That’s not often, though. Do you know how to clean blueberries?”

So it went, with Will being sous-chef. Soon Hannibal was slicing a French baguette and dipping the slices into an egg batter and frying them up while Will sauteed ham and mushrooms. Once everything in the pan was nicely browned Hannibal took over, beating eggs and folding the ingredients into two mid-size omelettes and making the blueberry topping for the French toast while Will set the table. By that time he could smell coffee brewing and Hannibal carried everything in on a serving tray, already plated. He left again and returned with two cups of coffee, with Will’s already the way he liked it.

“I’m curious as to how you know how I like my coffee,” Will said once he’d sat down and had a sip of coffee. 

“I saw you prepare it once,” Hannibal said, surprising him. “You were half-asleep, so you missed me entirely, but you came out of your office, went straight to the coffee machine, and prepared it.”

Will put the coffee down, feeling odd. Had he had his eyes shut for the past month? “What did you do, take notes?”

“After a fashion,” Hannibal said, cutting into his omelette. “Whenever I had the chance to observe you, I did. I learned quite a bit.”

Will felt himself go cold. Hannibal was a stalker who had devolved to kidnapping. The signs were there: following, observation, and some stalkers felt that they needed to “rescue” their victim. Hannibal certainly fit that profile. He’d noticed Will’s lack of self-care and stressful life and he’d essentially rescued him from it. Might he also be classed as an intimacy-seeking stalker? He was trying to build a relationship with Will, but that wasn’t reassuring in the slightest. A situation where the stalker devolved to kidnapping usually didn’t end well for the victim.

“I can feel your brain working from over here,” Hannibal said lightly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Will.”

His training was telling him otherwise. “You’re still my kidnapper,” Will said, digging into his omelette. “Forgive me for being nervous.”

Hannibal gave him an amused look over the rim of his coffee cup. “I wonder how long it will take you to realize that I won’t harm you.”

Will shrugged. There was nothing he could say.

“I hope your formidable mind has put the facts together and come up with the solution that it would do me no good to harm you.”

Will blinked. “The caffeine hasn’t reached my brain yet,” Will said, wondering just what nutcase theory Hannibal was going to offer. “How’s that?”

“It would be against my purpose to harm you,” Hannibal pointed out. “I brought you here to test a hypothesis. If I were to hurt you, you would not trust me, and there would go any chance of testing that hypothesis. If I were to kill you, there would be zero chance of ever testing it, let alone observing future results. You see?”

Not so nutcase after all. Will nodded. “Doesn’t the fact that I know you’re conducting an experiment mean that the results will be flawed?”

“Not necessarily,” Hannibal answered. “You can be aware of the situation without changing the outcome. I feel strongly that in time, you’ll look forward to my company when you wake in the morning and you’ll mourn it when I am not with you. I look forward to the time we’ll spend together, Will.”

“And that’s not creepy at all,” Will said. “Could you...I don’t know...tone down the creepiness just a little bit?”

“I shall endeavor to do so, but I cannot make any promises,” Hannibal sound, sounding a touch amused. “In my experience, when a person views himself mainly as an inconvenience to others, he needs multiple reassurances that he is not and that his presence is enjoyable. I am merely trying to reassure you that I enjoy having you here, Will.”

“Not helping,” Will said shortly. “Still creepy.”

“You’re amusing when you’re still tired.”

“Again with the creepy!”

They finished breakfast shortly after that, with Will ready to grab his fork to fend Hannibal off if he needed to, and they cleaned up after the meal together. 

“Since it is raining, I doubt you would like to go outside,” Hannibal said as he wiped down the counters. “The temperature is approaching the freezing point. What would you say to a tour of the house? I am sure there are parts to it you haven’t seen.”

Will thought about it and nodded. “Is this where you’ve always lived?”

“No,” Hannibal said. “Traditionally, this was a family summer retreat for a former patient. He was already old when he entered my care and the rest of his family was already gone. Since he died without issue and he did not wish to leave the estate to the local or state government, he left it to me, stating in his will that he was grateful for the care I’d given him. I’ve been out here a few times, but when this scheme first entered my mind, this seemed like the perfect place to carry it out.”

“Won’t people at the BAU notice you’ve dropped off the face of the earth at the same time I have?”

Hannibal chuckled and led the way out of the kitchen. “No. There was nothing to connect us beforehand and as far as the BAU is concerned, I’ve been on sabbatical for more than a week, now. You’ve been missing two days. If you were there and this happened to someone else, I have a strong feeling you would have put it together, but I doubt anyone else would.”

It was clear Hannibal had a high opinion of Will’s perception and a lower opinion of others’, but he hoped Jack or someone else would be able to put it together--if they had reason to, at least.

“This is the sitting room,” Hannibal said at the first room they came to. It was filled with comfortable-looking chairs and a sofa, and the walls were covered with built-in bookshelves. On the back wall there were two windows with window seats that overlooked the back garden. “There is a radio and music player, as well, and of course, a games table. Do you have any games you’re fond of, Will?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find you have some favorites,” Hannibal said. “If you don’t feel up to some games, I can assure you this room is a pleasant place to sit and read. Ready to see the next room?”

The next room was Hannibal’s study, with two stories of bookshelves, a ladder to help someone reach the higher shelves, two easy chairs, a plush chaise lounge, and a desk. There was a piano in one corner and a harpsichord in the other.

“You can play the harpsichord?” Will asked, surprised.

“It’s similar to the piano. I saw a piano at your home, and I doubt it was there for the dogs to play. If you like, you may come here to practice, as long as you let me know first. I’ll need to make sure that my patient files are secure.”

Will didn’t doubt that some of those files might be about him and that Hannibal didn’t want to risk Will seeing them. “If I feel like practicing, I’ll let you know,” Will promised.

The next room was the television room, and it included a large television, a sofa, some easy chairs, a shelf of DVDs, and a coffee table. “You don’t stream movies or television?”

“Of course I do,” Hannibal said. “I’ve already made a user profile for you on my services, so you’ll be able to watch what you like.”

Will wondered if he could somehow hack the streaming service and use it to call for help.

Along the tour Hannibal pointed out the bathrooms and made a point of telling Will a little something about each room. After the television room Hannibal led the way down the hall and opened two French pocket doors to reveal a wide-open room filled with plants. 

“This is the conservatory,” Hannibal said. “It’s very pleasant and warm on a sunny morning, even in winter.”

Will could hear water. “Is there a fountain in here?”

“To your right.”

Will looked and was immediately delighted with the fountain that provided oxygen to the indoor koi fish pool. Hannibal had pets! He crouched down next to the pool and dangled his fingers in the water. “You didn’t strike me as a pet person.”

“Nor am I,” Hannibal told him. “The koi are just for decoration. Since we are speaking of pets, would you like to know what arrangements I’ve made for yours?”

Will was on his feet and facing Hannibal. How could he have forgotten something so important? “Please.”

“There is a condition you must fulfill before I give you the information.”

Uh-oh. This could be trouble. “What is it?”

Hannibal took a seat on a nearby wrought-iron settee and patted the empty space with his hand. “Sit next to me while I tell you.”

Will stared at him, stared at where Hannibal’s hand rested on the seat, and then again at Hannibal. “Why?”

“I wish to get you used to me, Will. How can I do that when you give me such a wide berth at all times?”

“There’s a good reason for it,” Will reminded him, thinking about the situation. “How long?”

“Just as long as it takes me to tell you,” Hannibal promised. “Come have a seat, Will.”

Will debated it in his head. He really, really wanted to know. “Will you tell me the truth?”

Hannibal blinked again. “Of course. A relationship requires trust, and truth-telling fosters trust. I find I am actually eager to tell you, just so you’ll stop worrying, but I also need you to learn to trust me, and that necessitates getting you used to me.” He patted the seat again. “Please, Will. Have a seat.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me without me sitting next to you?”

“No.”

“Thought I’d ask.”

Hannibal’s eyes warmed in amusement and he waited.

Taking his courage firmly in both hands, Will moved to stand beside Hannibal and he dropped into the seat. “Okay. Tell me.” The settee was too small for him to leave more than inch between him and Hannibal. He could feel the man’s body heat, and when Hannibal shifted, his pants leg brushed against Will’s. 

“The first night you were here, I drove to your house and let myself in using your key. I had some sausage with me, so the dogs were happy to see me, once I’d shared it with them. They went for a short run in the yard, took care of their business, and returned to the house when I filled their bowls with food and water. Before I left, I called 911 from your house phone, but I did not respond when they answered. I left the house, leaving the door unlocked. 911 sent a cruiser out to your home to check the call, found it suspicious that the door was unlocked, and called your emergency contacts, which according to your FBI records, were Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom. There is an investigation into your disappearance going on right now, but Dr. Bloom took your dogs home with her. I do believe that they will be well cared for.” He paused. “You may get up now if you wish.”

Will waited. “Thank you for telling me.” He got up and returned to the fish.

Hannibal watched him go. “You’re welcome, Will.”

While Will watched the fish, he was busy tucking a very pertinent bit of information away in his head: Hannibal had a car. It was most likely somewhere on the grounds, else how had Hannibal driven to Will’s house and back? If he was lucky, and very, very careful, he might have the beginnings of a plan. 

The room after that was the library. Will stared into the room. “You have...a lot of books.”

“I enjoy reading. If you wish to read anything, you don’t need to ask. Just come and take whatever takes your fancy.”

“With all the books in here, your study, the sitting room...I mean, there’s even some in the television room and in my room. How did you get them all here?”

“It took some planning, I assure you.”

Will approached the shelves. He saw a few books that he’d read before and some that looked interesting, but then he looked further down the shelf and saw the cookbooks. Hannibal’s selection of cookbooks was better than what the usual public library had. He took a closer look when he realized that some of the cookbooks weren’t in English. “Wait...you read French?”

“It’s a must for a serious chef, really,” Hannibal said, watching him from the doorway. “If one cannot read the Larousse Gastronomique, then one might as well order a pizza and bemoan one’s fate.”

Will turned his head away so Hannibal wouldn’t see him smile. Seriously, he shouldn’t encourage this nut, but damn, that was a funny joke! He could imagine Hannibal sitting somewhere, sobbing over a copy of the book in question and munching on a piece of delivery pizza to soothe his heart.

“You can laugh, Will; it’s funny.”

The amusement in Hannibal’s voice made him break and he couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, you’re right; it was funny.”

Hannibal showed him around the rest of the house, stopping at Hannibal’s bedroom. Will stood in the doorway and looked, but he didn’t look too closely. It was Hannibal’s private space, after all. Will could see the bed, some chairs, and (yes, more of the things) bookshelves. It didn’t look much different from his bedroom, but there were a few more personal touches. Somehow, the room matched the man very well.

“Aside from the attics, you’ve seen everything,” Hannibal said, leading Will back to the kitchen. “Do you have questions?”

Will did not remind him there had been doors that Hannibal hadn’t opened. He had a good feeling that there were parts of the house he hadn’t seen for reasons that Hannibal had yet to disclose. Still, as long as his life wasn’t in immediate danger, he could wait. “Not about the house, no.”

Hannibal nodded. “All right. What do you have questions about?”

Will took a seat at the island and gave a cautious glance at Hannibal.

“You’re not fond of eye contact, are you?” Hannibal asked thoughtfully.

Will shook his head. “No. Eyes can be distracting.”

Hannibal nodded again. “I see. Your questions?”

“I know why you brought me here, and what you’ve said I can do with my time, but…” Will stopped and thought about it. “I’m not even sure how to ask the question. What else am I going to spend my time doing?” As soon as he asked, he saw that Hannibal didn’t understand. “Reading, watching TV, and playing games will only fill so much time.”

Hannibal’s lips quirked in a smile. “Ah. I understand. Why do you think that I’ve been asking you to help me clean up after meals? There will be other tasks I’ll ask you to fulfill, like folding and putting away your clothes, tidying your room and lending me a hand with other housework, and so on. If you find time hanging too heavy on your hands, then I will be happy to spend time with you and distract you.”

Will nodded. 

“Any other questions?”

“If I think of any, could I ask you later?”

“Of course.”

“Could I go to my room now?”

“Certainly.”

The stress of the situation had been getting to him all morning and Will desperately needed some alone time. He hurried upstairs and once he was in his room he shut his door with the feeling that he was shutting Hannibal and all of his craziness out. He tried to lock the door, but it looked like the lock only functioned on the outside. Sighing, Will moved away from the door and tried to think. It wasn’t long before he was pacing. His breathing rate was a bit faster and he couldn’t seem to focus his eyes on any one thing…

He was almost hyperventilating before he realized what was happening. With an effort, Will took a few deep breaths, dropped into the easy chair, and tried a grounding exercise he’d covered with some of his more highly-strung cadets. He focused on breathing slowly and deeply while tensing and consciously relaxing the muscles in his body from head to toe. It took a while, but eventually he calmed down a bit.

Sensing a need for distraction, Will examined his shelves again. He decided against reading for the moment and instead pulled out a jigsaw puzzle. Immediately he could tell that it was an expensive brand of puzzle. The photo on the front was detailed and when Will opened the box he found the puzzle pieces were all wooden. The puzzle itself was shaped like an old-fashioned cottage surrounded by trees, and you could see into the cottage the same way you could look into a dollhouse. Dozens of tiny little details, like a squirrel on the roof, a cat on the front walk, chickens in the yard, a baby playing by the hearth, a basket of mending, and an old woman napping in a corner with a napping dog by her feet while a younger woman bustled about the kitchen made Will feel as if he were seeing a moment frozen in time. The more he looked, the more there was to see: flowers in the garden, butterflies, birds perched on the cottage thatching, a boy with a book, a child tending a vegetable plot, tiny stones in the walkway...He loved it. Even better were the “whimsy” pieces; puzzle pieces shaped like real items. There was a butterfly, a bird, a cat, an open book, a chair, a spinning wheel, a spool of thread, a cradle, a pot, and a teddy bear. 

Will worked on the puzzle for the rest of the morning, determined to put the whimsy pieces in last. He was almost ready to start putting them in when there was a knock on his door. It brought him back to earth with an unpleasant thump. “Yes?”

Hannibal opened the door and smiled at him. “Lunch is ready, Will. Did you have a pleasant morning?”

;The temptation to tell him to go away was nearly overwhelming. Instead, Will left his chair and followed Hannibal downstairs. “It was nice, yes. You?”

Hannibal smiled at the courtesy. “Very pleasant. I hope you’re hungry.”

Will could smell something savory and his mouth watered. “A bit.”

At Hannibal’s request, he set the table and it wasn’t long before they were sitting down to a lunch of ham steaks, sweet potatoes, and broccoli with sugar snap peas. Will ate almost everything on his plate and he was happy to have some fruit salad for dessert. The fruit had been lightly drizzled with vanilla yogurt and dusted with cinnamon and Will found himself loving every bite. “This is delicious.”

Hannibal smiled, appearing genuinely pleased at the compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”

Hannibal chatted with him while they did the lunch dishes and once the last item was dry and put away, Will headed for the stairs, his mind back on what he’d been doing…

“Hold on a moment, Will. Will you be resting in your room, or will you be down here on a sofa?”

Of course. How could he have forgotten that stupid rule? 

He hesitated too long. “Why don’t you come and lie down in my study while I work? I’ll be sure to tell you once an hour’s passed.”

Will felt his anxiety return, just as strong as before. He could tell that this was something Hannibal wanted, and he was certain that Hannibal wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Damn.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

Will followed Hannibal to his study and, keeping one cautious eye on Hannibal, he settled himself on the chaise lounge.  It was wonderfully soft and the upholstery fabric was a sybarite’s dream under his fingers. Hannibal provided him with a pillow for his head and a plush throw a moment later, and Will resigned himself to lying there until the hour was up.  Hannibal put on some very quiet music and began writing at the desk, the scratching of his fountain pen a barely audible descant to the music. It was oddly soothing, and Will felt his eyes sliding closed as his body relaxed.

 

How long he lay there on the edge of sleep he didn’t know, but a distant sound of a door closing made him open his eyes.  The door was closed, and when he turned his head he realized that Hannibal was no longer at his desk. Hannibal had left him in the study alone, possibly thinking that Will was well and truly asleep and therefore, no danger.

 

He was on his feet in a second and heading for that desk.  There had to be something in that desk...if he’d thought Will was asleep, then it was possible that he hadn’t locked it.  He began pulling open drawers and rifling through papers. A black portfolio held pages written in an elegant script and as Will glanced over them, he realized what he was holding.  Menus. These were the meals Hannibal had been feeding him. Intrigued, he turned the topmost page over and grinned when he saw the menus for that day. Yes, there they were: ham and mushroom omelettes with French toast and blueberries for breakfast, ham steaks with sweet potatoes, broccoli, and snap peas, with fruit salad drizzled with yogurt and cinnamon for dessert.  He was surprised that Hannibal would feed someone ham twice in one day, but perhaps it needed to be used before it went bad? Hmmm. Curious, he looked at dinner: chili glazed salmon, rice pilaf, and seared mixed vegetables, and for dessert, mixed berry pie. Shaking his head, Will put the menus aside and continued his searching. 

 

He found a leatherbound journal in the top right drawer and opened it, hoping that there would be something...There was.  The first entry was dated three months previously.

 

_ I have never bothered with a journal before since I’ve never felt the need to write my thoughts down.  However, the thoughts I have now are too overwhelming to keep confined in my head any longer. I feel as if my mind has caught fire, causing a shift in the way I perceive the world.  Colors are brighter, sounds are louder, the feeling of fabric against my skin stronger, and scent and taste are almost too much to bear. The most exquisitely painful thing is when I see him.  All I’ve learned is his name: Will Graham. _

 

Oh...God.  Will felt panic pool deep in his gut and send its claws into his chest.  Hannibal had been aware of him for far longer than he’d thought. It was like he couldn’t look away from the journal and he kept reading, bits and pieces of sentences standing out.

 

_ He is very thin and pale...He works as a lecturer at the FBI Academy...I wonder what he likes to eat; I would be happy to make him whatever he likes...He always looks as if he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, in addition to whatever else Agent Crawford adds on a regular basis. _

 

Will didn’t know what to think.  Every single entry had to do with him.  

 

_ He is famous within the FBI and psychological circles, both for his scholarship and for his rare abilities….He looks frightened to death half the time...what would it be like to ease that fear for him?  He returned from a crime scene with Agent Crawford yesterday and he looked as if the victims and the culprit had returned with him to haunt him….He appears to be living on coffee and air and far too little sleep, poor boy.  Someone should take care of him to ensure that he gets adequate rest and food. _

 

It looked like Hannibal had made that thought a reality.  He’d eaten more in the past few days than he had in the previous week, and as for sleeping, well, that was true as well.

 

_ According to the rumor mill that is the FBI, my poor Will has had a minor breakdown and has been given into a doctor’s care.  Through my contacts, I’ve managed to get hold of a copy of his medical records--thank God that Agent Crawford had enough presence of mind to see to Will’s well-being, but Will could not have been assigned into the care of a more pompous ass.  Wallace’s chief concerns are about Will’s abilities, and not his well-being. _

 

Will couldn’t argue with that; he’d had the same suspicions about Wallace.  Just what kind of contacts did Hannibal have at that hospital that they felt no compunction about breaking privacy laws in regards to a patient’s records?  Will kept skimming through the journal and he found Wallace’s name again.

 

_ That mistake of a human being, Wallace, used his treatment of Will to write a paper on Will’s abilities and it has created quite the stir in psychological circles--it’s even reached the public sphere and even laymen find it fascinating reading.  I’ve read it and I must admit that it is an extremely effective piece of writing, but he has drawn all sorts of false conclusions about my Will. He will not be what Wallace says he will be--he’s not seen Will enough to know that his conclusion rests on a false premise.  I have seen Will at his work, I have seen him out shopping, I have seen him perusing books in a bookstore, I have seen him interacting with others, and I have seen him at home with his pets. Yes, pets. I can never keep track of how many dogs he has--they move about so quickly--perhaps three or four?  My point is that despite how alone he is and the horrors he must face, he yearns for companionship. He’s not avoiding it; it has just not been offered to him yet, despite his kindness and concern for others. That is a rare thing in this world; to offer your heart and soul for others and for them to accept it, but they offer nothing in return.  Anyone else would grow bitter at this, but not my Will. No, he finds more kindness and caring to offer, despite bleeding in his soul for want of a kind word. _

 

Will wanted to crawl under that desk and die.  He’d never told Wallace about how he’d felt, so Hannibal could never have read about that in his records, so how had Hannibal known about those feelings?  Half the time Will himself didn’t have the courage to think about them, let alone share them.  Shaking off the unease those words had drummed up in him, Will turned the page and got yet another shock.

 

_ That wretched Freddie Lounds has written about that paper and the things she’s written are nothing short of terrible.  I pray that Will’s not read them. At any rate, I’ve made my decision: I will be taking Will into my care. He deserves to be cared for.  He needs to be protected from such things. I’ve selected the perfect location for him and I’ve made preparations to ensure its security and comfort.  He will want for nothing. _

 

The next entry made Will drop into the chair behind him in shock. 

 

_ I have him.  The poor boy was so tired that he didn’t even see me coming.  In less than 30 seconds I had him down on the ground and sedated.  He looks lovely asleep--peaceful and innocent. I secured him and put him in my car and drove away.  When we arrived, I had planned to put him to bed, but he’d already started to wake up from the sedative, so I put him in a chair down in the basement while I prepare dinner.  I will leave him blindfolded for the evening so he will depend on me until he’s in bed. It will be a hard, if not impossible lesson for him to learn, but he will have little choice in the matter.  In time, he will depend on me entirely, and he will learn to accept my care. _

 

The entry after that must have been written the night before.

 

_ My Will is extremely stubborn, but I expected that.  I have told him that I brought him here for an experiment to refute Wallace’s paper since I was sure that he would not believe me if I told him I brought him here solely to care for him--he doesn’t believe he could be so important to anyone.  He spent all day today outside, looking for a way over the wall, but my preparations have ensured that there is no way. He tried to climb the wall and only slipped and hurt his fingers for his trouble. He didn’t come in for lunch and stayed out there all day; most of his time spent by the gate.  At last I went out and fetched him inside. He was so cold that he wasn’t even shivering, and the fit of temper I’ve been expecting hit. I let him wear himself out, comforted him once he had, and brought him inside for dinner. The menus I’ve devised are all heavy on comfort food and foods with which he’d be familiar.  I was pleased to see that he ate with decent appetite and that he followed my direction with little grumbling. I settled him in bed with no trouble and he is asleep now. I find this all very encouraging. Perhaps I might prove Wallace wrong after all. That would be an unexpected but welcome outcome. _

 

That was the last entry.  Will put the journal back where he’d found it, feeling as if he were shaking apart a little on the inside.  Hannibal was right that Will didn’t feel he was worth so much trouble on the part of someone else, but Hannibal’s accurate perception didn’t mean that he wasn’t dangerous.  If Will resisted too much, he might resort to violence to ensure that Will complied. No, Will would have to be very, very careful, unless he found a way to leave.

 

Shaking off his nerves and failing, Will opened another drawer and froze when he saw the photos.  There was a whole file of them; photos of him out and about, at work, and at home. His nerves turned to outright fear and he wrestled with it, feeling as if he were choking.  He closed the drawer again, unable to look at them any longer, and opened another drawer. There, sitting on top of some notebooks, was a set of keys. He stared at them, his mind not taking in what he was seeing, and then his brain finally put it together.  He plucked them out of the drawer and slipped them into his pocket, heading for the study door. He was getting the hell out of there.

 

He didn’t meet Hannibal as he moved through the house, and he tried the doors that Hannibal hadn’t bothered opening during his tour that morning.  One of them led to a closet, and another to a storeroom filled with complicated-looking culinary equipment. The next door led to what he was looking for: the garage.  In it was an expensive-looking Bentley, and when Will tried the key, the car door opened. It took him only a few minutes to unlock and raise the garage door and then he was backing out, doing a three-point turn, and driving down the gravel driveway.

 

He was a quarter of the way down the driveway when the engine cut out.  He applied the brakes, put on the parking brake, and looked around. 

 

Hannibal was standing on the driveway behind the car.  He walked up to the driver’s side and opened it, looking down at Will.  “Hello, Will. You fancied a drive?”

 

“Yes, actually,” Will said, fighting the impulse to dive for the other door and start running.

 

“Thank goodness I have more than one set of keys, along with a kill switch,” Hannibal told him.  “I didn’t expect you to try to steal my car so quickly; indeed, I didn’t even realize you knew where it was.”

 

“The garage seemed logical,” Will offered.  “I just had to find it.”

 

Hannibal surprised him by chuckling.  “I see. Well, we have two choices, here.  You can agree to leave the car and go back up to the house on your own, or I could subdue you and take you back.  Since it is still raining, it is no weather for a drive.”

 

The smile on Hannibal’s face was a little too fixed for Will to be comfortable.  Will glanced at his eyes and felt the urge to run again. Hannibal was pissed. “I didn’t leave the grounds.”

 

Two blinks while Hannibal struggled to follow his thinking.  “Sorry?”

 

“I’m not grounded, right, since I didn’t get past the wall or gate?”

 

Hannibal was trying not to laugh, but a second later he was laughing.  “No, you followed the letter of the law, at least. Slide over to the passenger side, and I’ll drive us back to the house.  You’ll keep your hands on the dash the whole time, or I’ll be forced to secure them. Do you understand?”

 

Will did as he was told and placed his hands on the dash once he had his seatbelt on.  Hannibal locked the car doors and drove them back to the house and into the garage, only opening the car doors once the garage door was closed and he had hit the lock button on the opener.  Will got out of the car, certain that he was going to be punished. Intimacy seeking stalkers who devolved to kidnapping did not take well to having their captives try to leave.

 

“You are not grounded, but I think it would be best if you went to your room until dinner,” Hannibal told him as he closed and locked the car.  “I’ll be up in a bit to check on you.”

 

He had been under too much stress that day and his ability to feel went dead.  He knew that the human body was designed to feel only so much stress before it closed the feeling off, merely as a survival mechanism, and it looked like it had happened.  Will nodded, left the garage, and headed up to his room.

 

Hannibal did come up to check on Will twenty minutes later, and he continued to check on him for the rest of the afternoon at irregular intervals.  Finally, at long last, Hannibal arrived to announce dinner, and Will went with him down to the dining room. As soon as the meal was served Will stared at his plate.  There it was: chili glazed salmon, rice pilaf, and seared mixed vegetables.

 

A feeling of unreality settled over Will then, and he ate and drank and responded when he was spoken to, but everything felt at one remove.  He followed Hannibal meekly to the sitting room, as requested, and Hannibal sat him down at the games table and brought out a set of dominoes.  “Do you play dominoes, Will?”

 

Will thought about it.  “Does lining them up and knocking them down count?”

 

Hannibal blinked.  “Not really. Why don’t I teach you the Draw variation?  It’s easy to learn and master.” He opened the box and spilled the dominoes out onto the table, the velvet on the table muffling their clatter into quiet clicking.  “All of the dominoes are facedown on the table, and we mix them up before we each draw seven. You’ll line them up on their sides facing you so you can see what you have to play.  The oldest player usually goes first and lays down a domino, and you have to match a domino in your hand and lay it so one end matches the other.”

 

Will drew seven dominoes and lined them up as Hannibal said and he waited until Hannibal laid a domino down.  One side had two dots, the other four. Easy enough. He matched the four side.

 

“Now that we’re both one domino down, we draw from the pool to replenish our hand,” Hannibal said, his actions matching his words.  “We keep going until we can make no matches or the pool is down to two. Points are awarded according to what’s held in your hand, and if there are any dominoes left in the pool, that tally is added to the person who’s holding the most dominoes in his hand. The person with the lowest number of points wins.  Ready to play?”

 

They played four rounds of dominoes and Will lost the first three.  

 

“Your mind’s not on the game, Will,” Hannibal chided him when that happened.

 

“I’ve had a lot on my mind today,” Will confessed after losing the third round.  He was amazed that he was able to sit down and play games after all that had happened, but he supposed it was possible his mind desperately needed distraction, just to have a break.  He picked up a domino and examined it. “What are these made out of?”

 

“Ivory.”

 

Will nearly dropped it in shock.  “Isn’t that illegal nowadays?”

 

“This set was handed down to me from my family.  It’s quite old.”

 

“And you just _play_ with it?”

 

“That’s preferable to keeping it in a drawer to gather dust,” Hannibal said, laying down a domino to start the next round.  “Your move.”

 

Luck went Will’s way then, and he won the fourth round.  “Well done, Will,” Hannibal said warmly when it became apparent Will had won.  “I knew you could do it.”

 

Will shrugged.  “It’s not so impressive to win just one game,” he said.  “If I’d gone up against a grand master or something, then it might be impressive.”  Too late, a thought occurred to him. “You’re not a grand master, are you?”

 

“Of dominoes, no,” Hannibal told him.

 

“Chess?”

 

Hannibal smiled, the action warming his eyes.  “That would be telling, Will. Would you like a hot drink before bed?”

 

Feeling as if his nerves were still skittering under his skin, he nodded.  “Some of that chamomile stuff would be nice.”

 

Hannibal took them both back to the kitchen and brewed them some of the “chamomile stuff.”  He added plenty of sugar to Will’s without being asked and sat them both at the island. “What led to you trying to steal the car today, Will?”

 

In the middle of a sip, Will swallowed hard and put his cup down.  “You really need to ask?”

 

“I feel as if I should, yes,” Hannibal answered.  “Tell me what led to it.”

 

Will shrugged.  “I’m a kidnapping victim.  It’s logical that I would try to escape.”

 

“And what were you thinking just before?”

 

Will picked up his cup again and sipped.  

 

“There’s only so much tea in that cup, Will,” Hannibal said after a minute.  “I feel we should talk about today. I want to make sure that you don’t do that again.  What if you’d already been on the road when I realized you were gone and hit the kill switch?  You could have been hurt.”

 

“But I wasn’t,” Will reminded him.  

 

“Still, I want to be sure you won’t try this again.  From now on, the garage is out of bounds for you.”

 

Will stared down into his mug.  “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It doesn’t?”

 

“You kidnapped me,” Will said, feeling his shoulders hunch as his voice grew tight.  “You’ve been keeping me prisoner and you won’t let me leave. I’m not going to stop trying to leave just because you tell me someplace is out of bounds.  Sooner or later, I’ll figure out how to leave.”

 

The last thing he expected was to see Hannibal smiling.  He paused, looked away, looked again, and sighed. “Okay, I’ve missed something.”

 

“I was actually a bit worried that you hadn’t made more of an effort to leave, Will,” Hannibal said.  “I well know the normal parameters for a kidnapping victim and you didn’t fit them, somehow. It was like you were trying to play a part that you felt a kidnapping victim should play, rather than reacting in a genuine manner for you.  I was worried that something was wrong, but today was actually reassuring. A kidnapping victim doesn’t give up after just one attempt, and today you proved it. I’m sure you have plenty of other attempts in you, so I will have to be on my toes, so to speak.  I’m glad you said what you did, Will.”

 

Once again, Will had to restrain himself from throwing something.  “So this fits in with your stupid experiment?” He couldn’t let Hannibal know that he’d read his journal.  He had no way of knowing how Hannibal would react to that and he didn’t want to chance it.

 

“Admirably, yes,” Hannibal admitted.  “Just because you’re following expected behavior, it doesn’t mean you’ve come out the lesser man, Will.  This isn’t a contest between us. If it makes you feel any better, just consider this a partnership.”

 

Will was surprised into looking at him.  “Partnership?”

 

“Yes.  I care for you, and you accept that care.  We both have our roles in this little enterprise.”

 

“I’d prefer to be at home and caring for myself,” Will sighed, feeling as if he should stop this conversation before it got any more difficult.  “I want to go to my room.”

 

“All right, Will.  I’ll be up shortly.”

 

Will all but fled upstairs and got himself ready for bed before Hannibal could appear to prompt him.  He was just settling under the comforter when Hannibal appeared. “I can see I won’t have to tell you it’s time for bed.  Are you ready for the next chapter of Villette?”

 

“I don’t get why you like reading to me,” Will muttered, dropping his head into the pillows.

 

“I enjoy reading, and sharing stories with someone else is something very basic to being human,” Hannibal said, pulling over a chair and taking a seat as he opened the book.  “Ah, yes, here we are. Lucy Snowe has just arrived at Madame Beck’s pensionnat.”

 

Will settled himself to listen, and while Hannibal read, he thought.  Reading that journal had given him some insight into how Hannibal thought and it was clear that Hannibal had convinced himself that Will needed his care and protection.  If there was a way to turn that to his advantage, Will had not yet seen it, but he was sure that there had to be a way. He just had to be sure that when he found it, Hannibal didn’t figure out what he was doing before he managed to get away.


	5. Chapter 5

Will woke up early the next morning, the light still dark outside his bedroom windows.  He checked his clock and it was just past six in the morning. Breakfast, Will knew, was at quarter to eight, so Hannibal wouldn’t be unlocking his door any time soon.  Will snuggled down into the sheets and comforter and tried to think, but his mind couldn’t settle to any one idea for more than a second or two before it was flying off to something else.  That was hardly constructive.

 

Sighing, Will got out of bed, pulled on his robe, located the slippers, and headed to the shelf that held the art supplies.  He pulled out two sheets of paper from one of the drawing pads, found a pencil, and started writing.

 

_ I’ve been kidnapped by a doctor (I think--he has a license and went to medical school) called Hannibal.  He hasn’t told me his last name. _

 

_ He knows me from the BAU, but I never met him before he kidnapped me. _

 

_ He’s been observing me for the last 3 months or so.  _

 

_ He told me he wants to conduct an experiment to prove Wallace’s paper wrong.   _

 

_ I also found his journal, and in it he states that I need to be cared for--by him. _

 

_ He’s an intimacy seeking stalker who’s devolved to kidnapping. _

 

_ To secure me, he sedated me, blindfolded me, and handcuffed me.  Those measures were taken only the first day and they lasted only until I fell asleep.  Because I couldn’t use my hands, he fed me. I think I was the only one at that table who thought it was weird. _

 

_ He loves to cook--he makes all our meals, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  He always has dessert, too. The food’s good, I have to admit. _

 

_ He has a piano and a harpsichord.  He said I can practice on the piano if I want.  I DOUBT he meant the harpsichord. _

 

_ He has really snobby tastes in music.  He asked about mine, but I didn’t want to tell him. _

 

_ He has books practically everywhere--my room, his room, the sitting room, and even the television room.  Lots and lots of books. So, he owns his own library. He said I can take anything I like and read it (he did ask what I liked), but I’ve noticed that he still wants to read to me when I go to bed.  Although it’s nice, it’s creepy. Hell, it’s just creepy. _

 

Will put his pencil down and sighed.  He was no closer to finding a solution to his dilemma, but at least all of those thoughts were no longer pinging around his brain.  He read over what he’d written and thought about it. Hannibal looked as if he wanted Will to be comfortable, and he’d certainly provided plenty of things to help that happen.  Will had access to books, music, games, television and movies, puzzles, art supplies, his fly tying hobby, new clothes, good food, and the outdoors and living things when he wished.  He knew of plenty of cases of kidnapping where the victim was either denied such things or had to earn them in some way, and usually such privileges were few and far between. In comparison, Will had a great deal.  He knew it was as rare as flying pigs for a kidnapper to provide so much so quickly.

 

The idea made him think.  It was almost as if...well, Hannibal had shown no interest in him romantically, but Hannibal’s behavior was almost as if he were  _ courting _ his captive.  Some stalkers and kidnappers would give their victims and captives gifts, especially if they wished a more intimate relationship.  Some would give gifts and then do what they wished with the person, but others saw it as a challenge to get their victim to love them even in captivity.  

 

In Will’s situation, when he looked at it critically, he actually had a great deal of power.  He could get away from his captor for a short while if he wished and he could engage with Hannibal as much or as little as he chose.  Hannibal might have control over Will’s liberty and physical surroundings, but at the moment, he had very little control over Will’s time.  From Hannibal’s journal, he knew that Hannibal thought about him a lot--he wanted to be around Will to ensure that Will was receiving his care.  That was...well, promising. What would Hannibal be willing to do to spend more time with Will? What would he be willing to provide to make that happen?  How would will be able to turn this to his best advantage?

 

Will folded up the pages and found a hiding place for them--under the cabinet in the bathroom.  It was easiest to move, thank goodness, and there was no carpet under it to clean, so it was unlikely to be moved.  All right, that was one worry taken care of. Will checked the time and got into the shower, turning his realizations over in his head while he washed.  As he was rinsing his hair another realization hit him: Hannibal was not the only one in the house who could manipulate people. Wasn’t that what he’d been thinking about the whole time; turning things to his advantage?

 

If he used all the knowledge he’d gained of Hannibal, then he could manipulate the ever-living fuck out of him.

  
  


Will heard his door unlock at the correct time and gave himself three minutes before he left his room.  He headed down the hallway, caught sight of himself in the mirror and fought down a smile. He really hoped this would work.

 

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal said distractedly, setting the last pieces of silverware in place on the table.  “Are you ready for…?” Hannibal trailed off, surprised.

 

Will blinked.  “Ready for?”

 

“Breakfast,” Hannibal finished at last, staring a bit and trying not to.

 

“I am hungry,” Will admitted, taking his seat.  “What’s for breakfast?”

 

Hannibal was still staring, but he gathered his wits and answered.  “Fried eggs, hashbrowns, and sausage patties, with a sweet apple and cinnamon roll.  Coffee?”

 

Will leaned forward in his chair a little and smiled a tiny bit, looking up at Hannibal.  “I’d like that.”

 

Hannibal turned like a cuckoo clock figurine and disappeared into the kitchen at warp speed.  Will told himself sternly not to laugh under any circumstances.

 

Hannibal returned with breakfast and coffee for them, and Will dug into his meal.  He complimented Hannibal on the taste and saw Hannibal preen a bit under the praise.  Will checked off the action on his mental checklist and kept going, biting into the sweet roll and giving a little moan at the taste.  “Mmm. Oh, this is so good.”

 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Hannibal said after taking a hasty sip of water.  He seemed to be having a hard time looking away from Will.

 

Will took a sip of his coffee and congratulated himself.  It looked like his strategy was effective, but he wasn’t going to mention anything about it.  If Hannibal wanted to talk about it, he’d have to ask, but Will had a very strong feeling that Hannibal was fighting the urge to ask and it was  _ killing _ him.

 

Will dug into his eggs.  “I was wondering something.”

 

Hannibal tore his gaze away and looked at Will’s eyes.  “Yes?”

 

“You said that you want to do this experiment, and I was wondering if this experiment would only take place here.”

 

Hannibal finally looked away from Will and stared down at his plate a moment.  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Will.”

 

Will fiddled with his silverware, seeming uncertain.  “I know you can leave for shopping and errands, and so on, but I’ll be stuck here.  Sometimes, I’d just get into my car and go for a drive, even if I didn’t know where I was going.  It made a nice change when I couldn’t get away from my thoughts. I was just wondering if I’d never leave here or if there would be chances to see some new places.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes lit as he caught on.  “I see. You attempted to escape your thoughts by escaping your surroundings temporarily.  That’s a good coping mechanism, Will.”

 

Will took another bite of his eggs.  “Would it be possible? I’d miss it.”

 

Hannibal tilted his head to the side.  “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, so I will promise to think about it and see if I can make it happen.  Is that acceptable for right now?”

 

Will nodded.  “Yes. Thank you.”

 

“What would you like to do today?” Hannibal asked easily in the silence that followed.

 

Will thought about it.  “If the rain’s stopped, I’d like to see if I can find any materials for my flies.  I’d like to make a few. Is there fishing nearby?”

 

Hannibal suddenly looked inordinately pleased.  “There is, yes. When the weather is warmer, I can arrange it for you.”

 

Will glanced up at him and away, as if surprised.  “You really would?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

 

For split-second, Hannibal looked like an overfed canary--so satisfied he could burst.  “You’re very welcome, Will.”

 

They finished breakfast, Will helped Hannibal with the dishes, and headed for the entryway to bundle up.  Hannibal reached him as he was pulling on his gloves. “Just a moment, Will.”

 

Will paused, uncertain.  “Something wrong?”

 

“It might be best to put your boots on, rather than wear those shoes. They look nice, but they’re not very warm.”

 

Will looked down at the leather loafers he was wearing.  “Oh. Okay.”

 

On his way back upstairs Will saw himself in the mirror again.  It looked like dressing up a bit had been effective: he’d worn a pair of fitted jeans, a dress shirt, blazer, a matching watch, and Italian leather loafers.  Hannibal had been staring at him like a loon all morning. Will fought down a snicker as he changed his shoes and clomped back downstairs to bundle up again. Then, he was outside and he let his new persona drop a little as he started searching for materials.  He found a few odd little bird feathers, two turkey feathers, a strand of horsetail hair, and a tuft of some kind of fur, possibly from a squirrel’s tail. He tucked them all into his pockets and continued stumping around the property, keeping his eyes peeled. To find so much all at once was a bit suspicious, but he wasn’t going to question it since it gave him a reason to be outside.

 

He didn’t realize just how dark and cold it had gotten until he realized he was squinting to see.  Confused, he looked up at the sky and found it was now covered with heavy clouds. He looked around but only saw himself surrounded by trees.  A few snowflakes began to drift down and worried about being caught in a snowfall, Will headed through the trees. It looked like there was going to be some heavy snow and even though he was close to the house, it would be easy to get lost in a whiteout.  

 

Fear hit him after a few minutes: he was already lost.  There were lots of trees around the house and he had no idea if he was headed the correct way or not.  The snow was getting heavier and it was getting harder to see. For all he knew, he could be walking around in circles.  

 

He was in trouble.

 

“Will!  Will! Where are you?”

 

Never, ever had he been so glad to hear a kidnapper’s voice before.  “I’m here! Where are you?”

 

“At the light!  It’s flashing!”

 

Will turned slowly on the spot, and dimly he saw a light, flashing on and off.  The snow made it hard to see, but thank God and all his angels, it was still visible.  “Stay there! I’m coming to you!”

 

Five minutes of walking and he’d reached the clearing where Hannibal stood.  The snow was even heavier now and the wind was picking up, blowing the snow into their faces.  Squinting, Will saw Hannibal pull out several belts. He wrapped one around Will’s waist, one around his own, and used two to link their belts together.  He took Will’s arm and shouted over the wind, “Stay with me, Will! I’ve made a path we can follow back to the house!”

 

Will saw the path as soon as they left the trees--a long rope tied to the tree closest to the house.  Hannibal took hold of the rope and pulled Will along with him through the snow, which had reached whiteout.  Will felt absolutely numb with cold by the time they reached the stairs to the front door and Hannibal had to help him into the house.

 

“Wh-where th-the hell d-did th-that s-storm c-c-come fr-from?” Will asked through chattering teeth as they unfastened the belts and started taking off their coats and boots.

 

“I’m as surprised by it as you are,” Hannibal said, pulling off his hood.  “There was nothing on the weather report about it.”

 

“S-someone d-did a b-bad j-job, th-then,” Will said, trying to fight off his shivering.  “Th-thank you f-for c-coming out after m-me.” He felt a bit odd, as if his shivering were breaking him apart.  A moment later he realized what it was and dropped onto the hall bench, fighting back tears.

 

“Will?”

 

“I’m okay,” Will sniffed.  “I’m fine.”

 

Hannibal moved to stand in front of him and bent down to look at his face.  “Are you really?”

 

He meant to say yes, but the next thing Will knew, he was holding onto the only other human being within miles and falling to pieces.  Hannibal held him while he cried silently and shivered, and slowly, he divested Will of his outdoor clothes and coaxed him into the kitchen.  Hannibal sat him down in a chair and made him a cup of hot chocolate, whisking it in the pan until was frothy and light. Will sipped at it until he felt warmer and then he started to feel more like himself.

 

“That was a frightening experience for you,” Hannibal said, taking a seat at Will’s side.  “I’m sorry that happened to you, Will.”

 

“I’m okay,” Will said, sipping his drink.  

 

Hannibal touched his arm.  “You’re still cold to the touch.  Finish that drink and I’ll make you another, hmm?”

 

Will did as he was told, knowing that he had to warm up.  He took the second cup of hot chocolate, still steaming, and sipped at it while Hannibal left the room and returned with a fleece throw blanket.  “I need to check you over for frostbite, Will. Is that all right?”

 

“What would that entail?”

 

“Right now the most likely places would be your hands and feet, nose, and ears.  Do you have any pain or tingling anywhere?”

 

“My fingers are really cold.”

 

Hannibal nodded, placed Will’s hot chocolate on the counter, and cupped his hands underneath Will’s, turning them slowly to examine them.  He pinched lightly at the fingertips. “Can you feel that? Does it hurt?”

 

“Yes and no,” Will said, fighting down another shiver.  “Feels a bit like just after you burn yourself. Just how cold is it outside?”

 

“It was a significant drop in temperature, that’s for certain,” Hannibal said.  “It was about 40 degrees Farenheit when you went out, but now it’s closer to 15, not factoring in wind chill.  We were lucky, I think.”

 

Will leaned back in his chair and wrapped himself more tightly in the throw.  Just hearing about that made him feel colder. Hannibal checked Will’s nose and ears next, pinching lightly and examining their color.  “Looks good. Now for your feet. Could you take your sock off, please?”

 

Will did as he asked, indisposed to argue.  Hannibal turned his feet back and forth and pinched at the toes, looking carefully at the color.  He stood, rummaged in a nearby drawer, and returned with a flashlight, shining the beam on Will’s feet and hands.  “Something wrong?”

 

“Frostnip,” Hannibal said.  “It’s good you were wearing a hat, scarf, and a hood since that protected your head, but it looks like those gloves and boots didn’t do as good a job as they should have at protecting you from the cold.  Stay here.”

 

Hannibal filled two bowls with warm water and brought them over to Will.  “This one goes on your lap for your hands and this one is for your feet. You’ll need to move your fingers and toes a bit while they’re warming up,” he said, placing the second bowl on the floor.  “Feet up, please.”

 

It wasn’t long before Will had his hands and feet in warm water and he sighed as they started to warm up.  At least his hands and feet were warm; he was still freezing, though.

 

“Feeling better?” Hannibal asked as Will sat there.

 

“A bit,” Will admitted.  “My hands and feet feel better.”

 

Hannibal reached out and touched Will’s bicep.  “You’re still cold.”

 

“I was out there a while,” Will reminded him.  “I figure it’ll take me a little longer to warm up.”

 

Hannibal picked up Will’s hot chocolate.  “Why don’t you finish this and see how you feel?”

 

Will started to remove a hand from the water to take the cup, but Hannibal put a hand on his arm to stop him.  “I’ll hold the cup while you drink, Will. Your hands need to stay in the water.”

 

_ Why do I get the feeling he’s just a little bit happy with this situation? _ Will wondered as Hannibal helped him drink.  Sip by sip, Will swallowed the hot chocolate, and within twenty minutes it was gone.  “How do you make that taste so good? It’s nothing like Swiss Miss.”

 

Hannibal froze and blinked,sensibilities offended once again.  “That doesn’t surprise me. I make the hot chocolate myself--milk, cocoa powder, sugar, vanilla, and a tiny bit of salt.  A little bit of cream makes it richer, and the ingredients decide the taste. I’m glad you like it, Will.”

 

“It’s the best I’ve had,” Will admitted.  “It’d be nice if I could shower in it, actually, instead of just drinking it.  Then I’d be warm.”

 

Hannibal blinked and looked at Will.  “Still cold?”

 

“Mostly, yes.  My hands and feet are warm.”

 

Hannibal touched his arm again, and then his chest.  “A warm bath might be beneficial, Will.”

 

Uh-oh.  He hadn’t expected that.  “Would I be allowed to take it by myself?”

 

“I’ll run it for you and check the temperature, but yes, you’ll take it by yourself.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Hannibal brought a towel to pat Will’s hands and feet dry and walked with him upstairs.  Will bundled up in his comforter while the bath ran, and then Hannibal declared it ready.  

 

“If you feel lightheaded, call me,” Hannibal told him.  “I’ll be nearby.”

 

“Thanks,” Will said, taking off his blazer.  He was looking forward to feeling warm again.

 

Hannibal left the room and closed the door behind him, giving Will some privacy.  Will undressed and slipped into the tub, and as soon as he was settled in the water he realized just how  _ big _ the tub was.  He’d be able to lie flat in it with plenty of room on all sides!  It had been ages since he’d been able to fit comfortably in a bathtub like that.  Even better was inclined back and headrest, which allowed him to see the instrument panel on the wall.  Intrigued, he hit a button and almost immediately a very quiet motor started up and he was surrounded by whirlpool jets!

 

_ Oh, this feels amazing, _ Will thought, leaning his head back on the headrest.   _ I’m just going to soak here for a few minutes and not think about anything. _

 

That was what he did, letting his mind drift and his body relax.

 

“Will?”

 

Will jerked awake, startled.  “What?”

 

“I am sorry to barge in on you, but I became concerned when you didn’t answer after I knocked,” Hannibal said, standing in the doorway.  “You’ve been in the tub a while and you were asleep when I opened the door. Are you all right?”

 

Never, ever had Will been so grateful for aerated water.  His lower body was completely obscured. “Fine.”

 

“Mm-hmm.  Perhaps you should get out once I close the door?  Lunch is ready, so I’ll leave you something warm to wear on your bed.  Make sure you’re completely dry before you dress, and I’ll see you when you come down.”

 

“Thanks,” Will said, thankful the jets had not shut off.  “See you in a little bit.”

 

Hannibal gave him an amused smile then.  “I wouldn’t have peeked, Will. Your modesty is secure.”

 

“Good to know,” Will answered, wondering if it were possible to die from embarrassment.  “I’m gonna get out once you’ve gone.”

 

Hannibal took the hint and left.  Once he was gone, Will got out of the tub, dried off, and wrapped up in his robe.  When he found the clothes on his bed, he had to pause and grin to himself for a moment:  Hannibal had left him flannel pajamas and a fluffy fleece robe and slippers. He pulled the clothes on and left his room and headed to the dining room, but Hannibal wasn’t there.  Confused, he turned around. 

 

“In here, Will,” Hannibal called.  “Sitting room.”

 

Will walked in on a very cozy scene.  Hannibal had piled pillows on the floor in front of the fireplace and covered them with fleece throws, and lunch was on a large tray in the center.  The fire was crackling away and the smell of apple wood had filled the room. “Wow,” he breathed, surprised.

 

“I figured you would want a way to keep warm,” Hannibal told him from his seat in the pillow and blanket nest.  “Feel better after your bath?”

 

“A lot better,” Will said, settling himself on some pillows.  “Thanks for checking me out and helping me.”

 

Hannibal smiled, pleased.  “You’re welcome, Will. For lunch we have cream of mushroom soup with rice, grilled cheese sandwiches, and some more hot chocolate.”

 

Will accepted the soup mug and plate with a smile.  “I can’t imagine you enjoying grilled cheese.” 

 

“Well, a sandwich has to be made with the right ingredients to be enjoyable,” Hannibal told him.

 

“Of course.”  Somehow, Will didn’t think that Hannibal did sandwiches often.  If he made a sandwich for himself, it was probably complicated with really exotic ingredients that cost a fortune.  He seemed that kind of guy.

 

Hannibal chatted with him while they ate and finally Will settled back against the pillows with a cup of hot chocolate.

 

“I have a feeling you’re resting here today,” Hannibal said, sounding amused.

 

Will swallowed his present sip of hot chocolate.  “Mmm-hmmm. I’m nice and warm where I am.” He finished the hot chocolate, almost dropped the cup, and set it on the try. He felt so tired that he didn’t want to move.  Being out in the cold weather could really take it out of you.

 

Hannibal reached over and pulled his slippers off.  “Let me check your feet, all right?”

 

“I wasn’t gonna argue,” Will said, staying put.  His mind was already drifting a bit.

 

If it weren’t for the fact that it was his kidnapper fussing over him and the fact that his dogs weren’t there, that moment would have been pretty much perfect.  His eyes had closed at some point, but he fought them open as something occurred to him. “Was it in the soup or the hot chocolate?”

 

“What, Will?”

 

“What you gave me to make me sleep.”

 

Hannibal was now massaging his foot.  “You need your rest.”

 

“Damn it, Hannibal.”

 

“Language, Will.”

 

With an effort, Will jerked his foot away.  “Fuck you.”

 

Hannibal didn’t reprove him for his language; all he did was pick up his foot again and continue with the massage.  Whatever Will had been given kicked in then and he fell asleep. Dimly, at one point, Will felt a hand smooth his hair, but after that there was nothing but sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

Will woke in his bed.  He was cozy and relaxed and feeling ever-so-slightly detached from everything.  Whatever Hannibal had given him must still be in his bloodstream because he felt no urge to get out of bed and start kicking Hannibal’s ass.  For the first time, he understood all those swashbuckling narratives where the hero had been betrayed and vowed to seek revenge on those who had wronged him.  He wanted to exact some sort of revenge for such a stunt, but at the moment, he was still groggy from...whatever it had been.

 

Despite wanting nothing more than to cuddle down into that wonderful bed, Will began moving his limbs to wake himself up.  Soon he was sitting up and stretching, and carefully, he made his way to his feet and into the bathroom. He washed, dried off, and wrapped up in his robe, making his way to the closet so he could dress.  Not feeling up to the fussiness of more formal stuff, Will dressed in jeans and a sweater, pulled on warm wool socks, and some shoes. He put his room in order and sat down in the easy chair, still feeling out of it.  He really wanted to crawl back into bed since he felt as if he were moving through molasses, but he felt it would be better to be up when Hannibal arrived.

 

He didn’t have to wait much longer.  Hannibal entered the room, looking toward the bed as if he expected Will to be there, but his surprise was plain when he saw the made bed.  Relief suffused his face when he spotted Will in the chair. “Good morning, Will,” Hannibal said chummily. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“You know I did,” Will stated.  “What did you give me?”

 

“Just a light sedative.”

 

Will looked Hannibal up and down, considering his next words.  “You and I both know that’s not true. Whatever it was, it’s still making me groggy.  I don’t like it.”

 

“After such a difficult experience yesterday, Will, you needed your rest,” Hannibal told him.  “Giving you that ensured you had it. You’ll spend today inside to be sure no harm was done. Breakfast is ready, so let’s go down before it gets cold.”

 

Will sat.  He wasn’t moving.

 

“Will?”

 

Will glanced at him.  

 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

 

“No.”

 

Hannibal blinked as if surprised and how Will could exact revenge flashed on him.  It was brilliant.

 

“I must insist,” Hannibal said, approaching Will’s chair.

 

“You’re free to insist.”

 

Hannibal reached down, took hold of Will’s arm, and pulled him to his feet.  He tucked Will’s arm in his own and took them both downstairs, Will neither resisting nor aiding.  Hannibal placed him in his seat at the table and served breakfast. Will examined what was on his plate and thankfully, his stomach didn’t react.  Either whatever he’d been given had suppressed his appetite or stress had killed it, but he wasn’t hungry. The Western omelette and bacon slices didn’t really appeal to him, nor did the toast or coffee.  

 

“Try a piece of toast to start,” Hannibal suggested, glancing at Will’s still-full plate.

 

Will glanced at him and away, but he did not take any toast.

 

Hannibal took two more bites before he spoke again.  “Would you prefer something else, Will?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why aren’t you eating?”

 

It was now time for the coup de grace.  Will looked at Hannibal and maintained the eye contact.  “I’m not touching anything you give me.”

 

It was nice to know he could still surprise Hannibal.  The man’s face went still and he blinked several times while he took in Will’s words.  “Why not?”

 

“You’ll just drug me again, and I don’t want that.”

 

Oh, the look on Hannibal’s face as he realized just what he’d done was priceless.  He’d destroyed any trust he’d built between himself and Will with drugging him the day before.

 

“I haven’t drugged your breakfast, Will.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d drugged my lunch yesterday, either,” Will answered, keeping his tone the same.  “If it comes to a choice between starving or being drugged out of my mind, then I take the former.”

 

More blinking as Hannibal thought quickly.  “I must insist you eat, Will.”

 

“No.”

 

“Will.”

 

“ _ No. _ ”

 

Hannibal leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.  “If I have to, I will secure your hands again and feed you.”

 

“Good luck with that.  Just because you secure my hands doesn’t mean that I’ll eat.”

 

Hannibal waited a moment.  “I’ll give you ten minutes,” he said.  “If you start eating once the ten minutes are up, then things will be fine.  If not, then I’ll feed you myself.”

 

Will didn’t say anything, he just sat there.  The ten minutes ticked away. Hannibal glanced at the clock and after some time had passed he said,  “Time’s up, Will. Are you going to be sensible and eat your meal?”

 

Will gave him the most sardonic look he could muster.  “What do you think?”

 

Hannibal stood and Will bolted.  Hannibal darted after him and dragged him back to the table and forced him into the chair.  “Do NOT get up, Will,” Hannibal said firmly, standing behind his chair. “This is your last chance.”

 

Will pushed his chair back, knocking Hannibal off balance, and Will ran in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.  Hannibal went after him and dragged him back, plonking him into the chair again. Keeping one hand on Will, he turned and reached into the cabinet behind him, and Will saw two pairs of handcuffs sitting on the shelf.  Will slipped out from under Hannibal’s hand and ran like hell, leaving Hannibal to chase him again and drag him back once again. Hannibal forced him back into his chair and Hannibal stood directly behind Will’s chair to keep him from bolting again.  Will heard the clatter of the handcuffs and he dropped out of the chair, crawled under the table, and ran once he was out from under it.

 

Hannibal made an exasperated noise and gave chase, and Will had almost made it to the stairs when Hannibal caught him and dragged him back.  “You’re being childish, Will!”

 

Will didn’t answer, instead squirming like a mongoose in Hannibal’s grip.  He shook Hannibal off and started running, but Hannibal caught him again a minute later.  Once more he wrestled Will into the chair and this time he managed to cuff Will’s right hand to the chair.  He turned to reach for the other set of cuffs and...Will dropped under the table again, this time dragging the chair with him.  While it was a heavy chair it was not impossible to move, and Will kept moving.

 

“For the love of--Will, stop!”

 

This time Hannibal had to drag both Will and the chair back.  Will was pleased to see that Hannibal’s perfect hair had now become mussed and his face was flushed with exertion.  Hannibal moved him and the chair back to his place setting, shoved the chair into position, and forced Will into it, quickly cuffing Will’s other hand to the chair.  “That is  _ enough _ , Will.  Now, you are going to eat.”

 

Will’s silverware had been knocked to the floor during the struggle, so Hannibal went to get some more.  Once Hannibal’s back was turned, Will pushed away from the table, picked up the chair by its arms, and scuttled away.

 

Will didn’t understand the words that followed, but he figured they were Lithuanian.  Hannibal chased after him again, dragged him and the chair back, pushed him into position, and took a seat beside him.  “That is absolutely enough, Will. Do  _ not _ try to move away from this table again.  Now, you are going to eat.”

 

“I’ve told you I’m not hungry.”

 

“You still need to eat.”

 

“No, I don’t.  I don’t want to be drugged again.”

 

“I haven’t drugged this, Will.”

 

“I’m not going to take your word for it.”

 

Hannibal cut a portion of the omelette and held it out.  “Either you can eat this, or I can make a nutritional shake for you and pour it down your throat, but you’re going to have something.  Do you understand?”

 

A ripple of unease ran over Will’s spine.  “Pour it down my throat?”

 

“I don’t want that to be necessary,” Hannibal said.  “I do have the equipment to tube feed you if needed. You will not starve yourself.  Now, is it going to be necessary?”

 

“I feel sick.”

 

“It’s just nerves, Will.  If you eat, then there will be no need for more extreme measures.  Are you ready to eat now?” 

 

“Could I have some water?”

 

Hannibal put the fork down and held Will’s water glass to his lips.  Will sipped at the water and felt better. “If it’s drugged, I’ll never forgive you.”

 

“I promise it is not drugged,” Hannibal said, picking up the fork.  “Are you ready?”

 

Bite by bite, Will was fed half the omelette, a piece of toast, and a piece of the bacon before he stopped and leaned back from the fork, swallowing hard and feeling his face turn pale.  “Um...I think I’m going to…”

 

Hannibal ran for a basin, but he didn’t make it in time and Will vomited on the floor.  Hannibal sighed and uncuffed Will, looking at him thoughtfully. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said you felt sick.  Go up to your room and make yourself comfortable, all right? I’ll be up once I take care of this.”

 

Will didn’t argue and despite how wretched he felt, he congratulated himself on winning that particular battle.  Had his actions been extreme? Perhaps a bit, but Will felt that it was all to the good in this situation. Hannibal would be reluctant to cause any harm to Will, and it was now clear that pushing Will too far could result in...a very messy floor and a seemingly-ill Will.  Once in his room, he rinsed out his mouth, brushed his teeth, changed back into his pajamas, and snuggled into bed. If Hannibal thought he was really sick, then he might have some comparative peace and quiet for a few days. 

 

Hannibal came up after a half hour, carrying a tray with a plateful of packaged crackers and an unopened can of ginger ale.  Will examined the tray, amused. “I can’t believe you have something so plebeian as crackers and ginger ale.”

 

“They’re good for stomach upsets,” Hannibal told him, placing the tray on Will’s knees once Will had sat up.  “I would like it if we could talk.”

 

“Do I have a choice?”

 

“You always have a choice, Will.  If you wish to be by yourself, then I will go, but I think it would be good if we talked a bit.”

 

Will opened the can of ginger ale and sipped.  “All right. Say what’s on your mind.”

 

Hannibal paused, then folded his hands in his lap.  “I’m afraid that I have destroyed your trust in me.”

 

Will bit a cracker.  “I doubt you ever had it.”

 

Hannibal didn’t react.  “Given. Still, I must say that in my defense, I was trying to do what I felt best for you.  You were exhausted and worn out, but you were acting as if you didn’t intend on resting.”

 

Will nearly threw the tray at Hannibal’s head.  “You’re almost as bad as Jack.”

 

Hannibal blinked.  “Agent Crawford.”

 

“He didn’t think I could take care of myself, either.”

 

“I think that, given your past history, he has ample evidence to support that.  You were recently hospitalized, weren’t you?”

 

Will didn’t want to admit it.  “Yes. And?”

 

“I think that you don’t realize when you’ve pushed yourself too hard.  I was merely trying to take care of you, Will. I think perhaps you are upset since I went about it in the wrong way.”

 

Will put the rest of his uneaten cracker back on the tray.  “Is this an apology?”

 

Hannibal shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.  “Yes. I apologize, Will. I shouldn’t have done that to you.  I don’t blame you for being upset with me--you have good cause.  It was a violation of trust, and I am truly sorry for it.”

 

Will didn’t know what to say.  It was extremely rare for an intimacy seeking stalker to admit that his desires and wishes weren’t what the victim might need or desire himself.  It was almost unheard-of, now that Will thought about the case studies he’d read. Still, there were always outliers, and Hannibal fit that. Most intimacy seeking stalkers lacked social competence and were socially isolated, but Hannibal didn’t strike him as a person who was socially isolated or lacking in social competence since he understood the need for an apology when he’d done something wrong.  Interesting.

 

“It frightens me when I’m drugged,” Will said after a moment.  “The few times I’ve had to do it in the hospital, it always bothered me.  I don’t like missing time like that, and I don’t like how it makes me feel, and yes, before you ask, it does make me feel sick to my stomach.  The fact that you’re ready to drug me just to be sure I rest is...well, it’s terrifying. You said you wouldn’t make a habit of knocking me out, but that’s what you did last night.  You drugged me just to make me rest because you didn’t trust me to do it myself. How did I know I wasn’t going to rest? How did you know that I didn’t plan on curling up on a couch for the rest of the day instead of doing something else?  You could have  _ asked _ , you know.” 

 

Hannibal opened his mouth to answer, but Will cut him off.

 

“You didn’t ask.  I bet you didn’t even think of asking me, you just did what you thought was right.  I’ll acknowledge right now that I’m at your mercy: the clothes I wear, where I sleep, the food I eat, the only human contact I have...all of it comes from you.  You want to do this experiment, but I didn’t realize that you wanted to torment your subject.”

 

Will had never seen anyone look more guilty.  “Again, I am sorry, Will. I should have asked; you’re absolutely right.”

 

Will just looked at Hannibal.  “It’s amazing. You kidnap a person, you ask their forgiveness for something you’ve done, but you don’t rectify your biggest wrongdoing.  You’d make one hell of a case study for my classes.”

 

Hannibal surprised him by chuckling.  “In that, we are alike. I’m sure you’ve had several people wanting to do a case study on you.”

 

Will shrugged.  Since that article, he’d gotten a lot of letters with requests for interviews and to work with prominent psychiatrists, but he hadn’t responded to any of them.  A few of the more persistent had sent several letters and only the most dogged resorted to phone calls. “You wouldn’t be first person to say that.”

 

“I doubt I’ll be the last,” Hannibal told him.  “I won’t ask your forgiveness right now, Will. I feel I’ll have to earn it, so I won’t importune you with a request.  I’ll just let things move in their own course for right now, but I was curious if there would be anything I could do to make things up to you.”

 

“I can think of one very big thing,” Will said.  “I’m sure you won’t have to guess what it is.”

 

“Best not ask for the impossible right now, Will,” Hannibal said firmly.  “It will only frustrate us both.”

 

“Thought I’d try,” Will said, settling back against his pillows.  “What sort of things am I allowed to ask for?”

 

“Almost anything,” Hannibal answered.  “A new item for your room? A favorite meal?  Supplies for something you’d like to do? I have a good many catalogs and shopping accounts--I’d let you look at them and choose something.”

 

Will thought about it.  “You sound almost as if you’re trying to bribe me so I’ll let you back into my good graces.”

 

Hannibal shrugged, echoing Will’s earlier action.  “I do feel rather guilty, and since I cannot let you go, this is the next best thing I can do.”

 

“May I think about it?”

 

“Certainly.  Just let me know when you’d like to revisit the issue.”

 

Will nodded.  “I can do that.  Now, could we revisit another issue?”

 

Hannibal looked as if he wished they would do anything but, but to give him credit, he nodded.  “All right.”

 

“Do not drug me again,” Will said firmly, his voice growing darker.  “If you want me to eat without a problem, if you don’t want to have a battle each mealtime, and if you don’t want me getting sick from nerves, then don’t do it.  Don’t threaten me with it, either. Agreed?”

 

“Agreed,” Hannibal said.  “I don’t want you to have to worry about it.”

 

“One other thing,” Will said quietly.  “You’re my kidnapper.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re holding me here against my will and you’ve isolated me from anyone else.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re conducting a very unorthodox and unethical experiment.”

 

Hannibal’s lips quirked in a tiny smile.  “I”ll grant that it’s unorthodox, but sometimes the ends can justify the means.”

 

Will held up a hand.  “Let’s not get into that.  I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to keep looking for ways to get away from you.  When I manage it, I will go to the police and I will let Jack Crawford know about you. Jack is very determined to catch people he feels are dangerous.  I don’t think right now that you’re a danger to me, aside from the obvious, but I think you could be dangerous in other ways to other people. That, and I’m angry.  You had no right to do this to me, and I would be very happy to see you as a prisoner instead of me, and I would be willing to work with Jack to make that happen. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.  Fair warning.”

 

Hannibal smiled again, and this time it was a genuine smile.  “Thank you for the warning, Will. Hearing you say that is actually reassuring.  You’ve not been showing your usual behavior patterns since coming here, or at least not much, but that right there was all Will Graham.  I’m glad.”

 

“I feel kind of sorry for you,” Will said, nibbling on a cracker.  “When I tell Jack about you, he’s going to make your life a living hell.”

 

“I don’t doubt that, Will,” Hannibal said.  “Do you wish to stay in bed today, or would you like to be up and about?”

 

“I’d like to watch some TV.”

 

“I’ll make a bed for you on the couch,” Hannibal agreed.  “I’ll carry your tray for you.”

 

In a short while Will was settled on a couch in the television room and he was flipping through channels.  He watched the last half-hour of a talk show, watched a stock car race, and stumbled on a cartoon marathon.  At lunchtime Hannibal brought him another tray, with chicken and rice soup, lightly toasted bread, and more ginger ale.  Will ate most of the soup and two slices of the toast before putting the tray aside and changing the channel. He caught a weather report on the Weather Channel and watched a few minutes of a soap opera before deciding that the writers for the show hadn’t done their research on the FBI.  The next channel he landed on was CNN and he was about to flip off of it when he saw his picture.

 

“...and there is still no word,” the anchor was saying.  “We did speak to Agent Crawford earlier today and he stated that the investigation is ongoing.”

 

Will felt a smile start.

 

“Footage from an ATM camera from across the street captured the abduction, but for now, it is not being released.  The FBI are in the process of analyzing it and are attempting to identify the man responsible for Agent Graham’s disappearance and determine the reason for it.”

 

Will hid his face in the nearest pillow and fought the urge to start screaming in celebration.  Jack and his team were on the case. Jack might depend on Will to help him with the more unusual murders, but Jack Crawford was still a damn fine agent.  He would be careful and meticulous in his approach, but eventually, Jack would find him, if just to get his pet profiler back. 

 

Will spent the rest of the day being waited on hand and foot by Hannibal, and for the moment, he was content to let him.  Dinner that night was light, grilled chicken breast, pasta in a light sauce, and vegetables. For dessert Hannibal had made a lemon sorbet that tasted like a summer afternoon, and Will settled back into his pillows after eating it.  He’d stumbled on a procedural crime show and it was actually pretty good, so he spent the evening watching it. At quarter to eleven he found he could barely keep his eyes open, so he went up to bed, amazed that Hannibal hadn’t insisted on an early bedtime.  He got himself ready for bed, crawled under the comforter, and then Hannibal arrived to read to him.

 

“Are you feeling better, Will?” Hannibal asked as he took his customary seat.

 

“Much better,” Will admitted.  

 

“I’m glad.  Have you given any more thought to what you would like?”

 

“I’m still thinking about it.”

 

“All right.  Please let me know when you’ve decided.”  Hannibal opened the book at the bookmark. “Here we are; we left off at the examination day and the play, and Monsieur Paul has just told Lucy that she had to play a male part in it.  Let’s see what happens.”

 

Will let himself drift off as Hannibal read, and for a moment as he fell asleep, he thought he saw Hannibal smile at him.  He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or not, but in the next moment he was asleep and dreaming about a 19th century girls’ school haunted by the specter of a nun.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days were quiet ones.  Will spent his time quietly, working on flies in his room or distracting himself with the items there, eating meals with Hannibal, helping him with the dishes afterward, resting in his room when it was time, reading, or occasionally watching television.  He stayed away from the news channels on purpose since he didn’t want to see or hear anything about the investigation into his disappearance. He knew it would take time and he didn’t want to make himself impatient by keeping track of the investigation’s progress--or lack thereof.

 

His first Saturday with Hannibal was a surprise.  He actually slept in a little, so long that Hannibal came into his room to wake him.  Once again, the man was creepy about things: he sat down on the side of Will’s bed and rubbed his back.  “Will? Will, it’s time to wake up.”

 

The back rub had been rather nice when he’d still been mostly asleep, but once he was awake, it was creepy as hell.  “I’m awake,” Will said, sitting up immediately and scooting an inch or two away from Hannibal.

 

Hannibal smiled, amused at Will’s reaction.  “All right. Breakfast in twenty minutes. Better hurry.”

 

Will didn’t feel any urge to hurry, but he did keep an eye on the time while he showered, dressed, and put his room in order.  He got to the table just in time and Hannibal brought in over-easy eggs with toast, sausage, and on the side was a dish of yogurt with sliced strawberries and bananas.  He could tell Hannibal was watching him out of the corner of his eye as he had done ever since the Great Breakfast Struggle, but Will sat down and ate without any problems.  He wasn’t crazy about over-easy eggs, but if he dipped the toast in the broken yolks they were okay. He finished almost everything on his plate and helped Hannibal clean up, like always.

 

“Today is Saturday, Will.  Generally, on Saturdays I take care of the housework, and I remember you asked about things to fill your time.  Would you like to help?”

 

Will nodded.  “Yeah. So, what constitutes Hannibal’s Housework?”

 

Hannibal gave him a warm smile at the alliteration.  “We’ll start downstairs.”

 

What constituted Hannibal’s Housework was a lot of dusting, wiping down surfaces and floors, and general tidying and sanitizing certain areas.  Lord knew there were enough bookshelves and knick-knacks and wooden furniture to dust and he and Hannibal went over them room by room. They swept and damp-mopped the floors and then it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty.  Will didn’t mind cleaning the bathrooms since that took more effort, and while he was doing that, Hannibal took care of the laundry and started the preparations for lunch. Lunch was a simple soup and sandwiches and Will settled onto a bed with freshly-washed bedding afterward for his afternoon rest (He’d told Hannibal that he was willing to forego the rest since they were busy that day, but Hannibal wouldn’t hear of it and insisted Will lay down for his hour).  By the time he was to get up, Hannibal appeared with two baskets of freshly-pressed clothes and clean towels for him to put away. That took him a little while and then Hannibal suggested he should dust and wipe down his room surfaces and floors while Hannibal took care of his own room. Once that was done, they tackled the hallways. After that, they went to the conservatory to take care of the koi and the plants.

 

While they worked, Will noticed a few things.  Hannibal was always nearby, and occasionally, he would do something that would put him close enough to touch Will, and he often did.  He’d put a hand on his shoulder, touch his elbow, or pat him on the back. These small touches always accompanied some sort of praise.  Will knew what it was, but he didn’t find the fact that he knew what was going on reassuring. Hannibal was conditioning him to accept being close to him and to accept his touch.

 

It was troubling for a number of reasons.  It could be a sign that he was trying to foster an unhealthy dependency in Will, or it could be a sign that these small touches were just a prelude to something bigger.  He found he didn’t want to think about either scenario at all and put the thoughts away in his mind to think about later, when he could think about them calmly.

 

“You do this much work every Saturday?”  Will asked to distract himself.

 

“It’s not so much, when you think about it,” Hannibal answered, snipping a dead leaf from a plant.  “If the rooms were filled with obscene amounts of clutter, then it might be real work, but what we’re doing today is just...maintenance.”

 

Will thought about it.  “That makes sense. Do you work outside in warmer weather?”

 

Hannibal gathered up a few dead leaves and dropped them into a basket.  “Occasionally, but I have a gardener for the really heavy work that I am not able to do myself.”

 

“Like cutting down trees?”

 

“And the like.”

 

“Are there any other things you do?”

 

“Once a month I take down the curtains and drapes and wash and dry them, and then I take care of the furniture upholstery,” Hannibal explained as they put their garden tools away.  “I did that just before I brought you here, so it won’t need to be done for a few weeks, but it’ll be nice to have a second pair of hands to help with those chores.”

 

Will gave a sage nod.  “Ah, I see. You kidnapped me for my drapery hanging abilities.”

 

Hannibal gave Will a double-take and then realized he was joking.  He chuckled. “Perhaps, Will. I can think of any number of reasons someone might want to sequester you away from the world.”  He glanced past Will at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost time to prepare dinner. Would you like to help me?”

 

“You’re not gonna sequester me, are you?”  That line had been as creepy as anything Will had ever heard, if not the most articulate.

 

“No sequestration is needed, Will,” Hannibal said, continuing the joke.  “I promise.”

 

Will followed Hannibal to the kitchen, washed his hands, put on the apron Hannibal handed him, and began to learn the fine points of preparing roast pork loin with potatoes and vegetables.  

 

“Isn’t this pork loin rather...flat?” Will asked, examining what Hannibal placed on his cutting board and comparing it with his memories of supermarket offerings.

 

“The butcher cut it to my specifications.  We need to prepare the herbs first,” Hannibal told him, taking out a smaller cutting board and placing it on the counter.  “You’ll see.”

 

Will watched as Hannibal went to the pots of herbs that grew on the windowsill and plucked a few.  He pulled shallots and garlic out of the refrigerator and began to show Will how to peel and crush garlic, how to peel and chop the shallots, and how best to chop the herbs.  “Sage, rosemary, thyme, and summer savory...just like this, Will.”

 

Will mimicked his movements and turned out a passable plate of chopped herbs, garlic, and shallots.

 

“Well done,” Hannibal said as soon as Will had finished.  “Now we mix that with a little olive oil and then we add it to the pork loin.”

 

Will watched as Hannibal spread the mixture over the pork loin and then rolled it up, creating a spiral before the tied the whole thing into shape with string.  He brushed the outside of the roll with more olive oil, sprinkled on a little rosemary, and put it in the roasting pan.

 

“Where did you learn to cook this way?”  Will had asked some variation of the question before but Hannibal had yet to give him a straight answer.  

 

“Here and there, some things I garnished from books and others I learned from others who enjoy cooking as much as I do,” Hannibal said.  “Occasionally I’ve taken a class or two. I believe that food is one of life’s greatest pleasures, and while most people just focus on the joy of eating it, I focus on the joy of preparing it, as well.  It can be quite enjoyable to create a lovely meal and dine on the results of your labors. Let’s prepare the vegetables, shall we?”

 

Once the red potatoes, carrots, and mushrooms were cut up and coated in olive oil, they were sprinkled about the pork loin, the pan covered with a lid, and the whole of it placed in the oven to bake until dinner time.  

 

“It already smells good in here,” Will said, washing his hands.

 

“That’s the herbs,” Hannibal assured him, picking up a box that held recipe cards.  “Let’s see...any requests for dessert?”

 

“What kind of dessert goes with pork?”

 

“Generally, something with apples, cranberries, oranges, or cinnamon.”

 

“How about chocolate cake?”

 

Hannibal gave him a look.  “We’re having a heavy dinner tonight, Will.  Do you really want to wade through a heavy dessert as well?”

 

“Something light with chocolate?”

 

“I can see you’re unmoveable on the chocolate issue.”

 

Will gave him an innocent look and remembered a movie he’d seen.  “We could always have tater tots and chocolate.”

 

Hannibal gave him a wide-eyed look that let Will know he was completely horrified.  “Not while I am still breathing.”

 

Will couldn’t help laughing at that.  Possibly to forestall any mixtures of potatoes and chocolate, Hannibal sent Will out of the kitchen to relax, promising to take care of dessert himself.  “Could I play on your piano a little?” He wasn’t in the mood for reading or watching TV.

 

Hannibal’s lips quirked in a smile, as if pleased.  “All right. My files are already secure, so go ahead.”

 

Will went to Hannibal’s study and headed straight for that desk, pulling out the tiny bit of metal he’d found while cleaning the downstairs bathroom.  It might have been a hairpin at one time, but it was perfect for a lockpick. Two minutes and he had the drawer open: He wanted to read what Hannibal had written about him.  He found the journal and took it to the piano, propping the book up on the music stand as he started to run over scales. He quickly found where he’d left off and found the next entry.

 

_ My Will is extremely resourceful.  I don’t know if he was play-acting being asleep or if he was really asleep this afternoon, but I left him for a few minutes while I went to check on the pantry to be sure I had the needed items for dinner.  When I returned, my desk had been rifled, my keys were missing, and Will was not in my study. I found him in my car making his way down the driveway, but fortunately I had the kill switch on my second set of keys.  He looked a bit sheepish when I looked in at him, but he quickly took the opportunity to remind me that he hadn’t made it past the wall or gate and that he shouldn’t be grounded. I couldn’t help laughing since he was absolutely right.  He might have taken my car, but he hadn’t left the grounds--the letter of the law followed, if not the spirit. I’ve always known he was clever, but he’s also cunning. I drove us back to the house and he spent the rest of the afternoon in his room at my suggestion, and he sat down and ate dinner without a fuss.  After that, we spent the evening playing dominoes and we talked a bit over some hot tea. He did remind me that he was a kidnapping victim and he intended to escape his captor, and I was pleased that he made a point of telling me so. He’d been a bit too...quiet...I suppose that would be the right word. He’s been too meek for the Will Graham I know, but hearing him assert his right to freedom reassured me that he’s still Will. I saw him to bed at his usual time.  I made it through half a chapter of Villette before I realized he was asleep. I think he was exhausted from how much stress he’s been through lately, but I believe he’ll settle soon. _

 

Will thought about that and reflected that it could have been a lot worse.  Hannibal could have been furious with him and punished him over it, but instead he’d been forgiving and amused.  Talk about small mercies. Will kept reading while he went through an E minor scale.

 

_ I had quite the surprise from Will today.  He dressed in something other than jeans and a sweater--he wears that combination like knights wear armor--and he asked about possibly going somewhere together.  He shared that a coping mechanism he used in the past has been to get in his car and drive, just to be somewhere new and he wondered if something similar would be possible.  It’s premature for acceptance on his part, I know, but it does show that he’s thinking about the future and  _ **_I_ ** _ was in it.  He even asked about opportunities for fishing.  This is wonderful to think about. After breakfast he went outside to search for materials for his flies and since I’ve liberally sprinkled the appropriate things about the grounds, he was out for quite some time, no doubt filling his pockets with little treasures.   _

 

Will nearly stopped playing; glad that his hunch had been correct.  Hannibal had left things for him to find for his fly tying hobby.

 

_ A freak snowstorm frightened the ever-living hell out of me--all I could think of while I got myself ready to go out was my Will, lost in a whiteout, freezing to death, and just feet from the house.  I helped Will find me, got us both back to the house, and then while we were divesting ourselves of our coats and boots Will dropped onto the hall bench and fell to pieces. I’m sure he was thinking about what might have happened to him and the thought frightened him.  I comforted him as best I could and it took longer than I thought to calm him--it also took hot chocolate. Several cups, in fact, and a hot bath. He fell asleep in the tub and he looked as if he wished to drown himself when he woke up and saw I was in the bathroom. I wouldn’t have let myself in since I know how much he values his privacy, but he didn’t answer when I knocked.  I am thankful that Will will never read this since I would actually feel a bit embarrassed if he were to read my next words: He is beautiful, and I do mean beautiful, clothed or otherwise. _

 

Will nearly dropped his head onto the piano keys to groan his humiliation aloud.  He caught himself in time, but he felt like squirming himself into the deepest, darkest chasm he could find.  Clothed or otherwise--what the hell? Suddenly, he was a lot less sure of his safety. He turned the page and nearly died when he saw the pencil drawing: him, bare-chested, asleep.  He couldn’t look away from it and the urge to find that chasm was now overwhelming. No, he wouldn’t waste time trying to find it, he was going to find a shovel and make one himself.

 

_ The only thing detracting from that lovely picture is the fact that Will was quite-prunelike from being in the tub.  We had lunch together in front of the fireplace in the sitting room and to ensure he had his rest, I gave him something in his last cup of chocolate.  Unfortunately, he realized what I had done, but he is sleeping now. Hopefully by tomorrow he’ll feel more like himself and he won’t mind my taking a hand in making sure he rested. _

 

Will played another scale and reflected that Hannibal was wildly optimistic about the most impossible stuff.

 

_ I was wrong.  Will was livid about what I did yesterday.  I could tell as soon as I went into his room that he was angry, but to my surprise, he went downstairs with me for breakfast. _

 

_ That was the last time things were easy. _

 

Will nearly started laughing out loud.  He could practically feel the chagrin dripping from the page.

 

_ He refused to eat breakfast and when I tried to insist on it, he ran from the table.  I lost count of how many times I caught him, brought him back, and he ran again. I thought securing his hands to his chair would solve the problem, but he ended up picking up the chair and scuttling off.  I actually swore when I saw the back of the chair leaving the room--thank goodness Will doesn’t speak Lithuanian! I finally got him settled at the table, started feeding him, and then he was sick. I sent him upstairs to make himself comfortable while I cleaned up and he and I talked once I was finished.  What happened this morning helped me realize that I had been in the wrong yesterday, and he let me know it. He gave an ultimatum that I was not to drug him again and he reminded me that he was still angry about my taking him into my care against his will. He did say that he would not stop trying to get away, which I found reassuring.  It’s healthy for a captive to resist their captivity, and it looks like Will is resisting. I must admit that I’ve been a bit worried, but it looks like I was worried for little reason. _

 

Will did another two scales and thought about it.  Worried for little reason? It was more like that Hannibal wasn’t worried for the right reasons, or was unaware of the right reason for being worried.  Still, Will wasn’t about to enlighten him.

 

_ Now I am faced with a bit of a dilemma.  Will is used to a great deal of mental stimulus and despite my company and the items I’ve provided to distract him with, he’s proving very un-distracted.  I can tell he’s thinking hard about his situation even when he’s fully engaged in an activity, so I’m wondering what I can do to make sure that he doesn’t have time to fret about his situation.  This is going to take a great deal of thought. What can I do that I haven’t already done? What else can I provide? There are times when I know he enjoys my company and he relaxes enough to laugh at a joke or even to make one himself, but there are times when I know he cannot stand to be in the same room with me. _

 

Will paused and started the scale again.  He hadn’t realized that Hannibal had picked up on that.

 

_ He endures my company because he has to, but there are times when he will suddenly retreat to his room or a room where I am not.  I can tell from the set of his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw that it is taking all he has not to attack me sometimes. I have assured him that I would never hurt him, but he cannot bring himself to believe it.  Due to the nature of his work, it is his job to see danger and an ulterior motive in everything--I don’t begrudge him that since it’s kept him alive. What I can tell you I do mind is that I don’t get to spend as much time with him as I wish.  I often fantasize about that. _

 

Oh, God.  That was the last line on the page and Will debated with himself if he really wanted to turn the page and see what those fantasies consisted of.  He almost closed the book to put it away, but instead he turned the page. These fantasies might be things he’d need to know.

 

_ I want him to smile at me when he wakes in the morning, glad to see me.  I want him to want to spend time with me, rather than hide from me. I’d like him to ask my opinion on what he should wear for an occasion that we’d attend together.  I’d like to share a sofa with him when we read, and I’d like him to lean against me while he’s absorbed in a book. I’d like to be able to sit and stare into the fireplace with him, each of us lost in our own thoughts, and for him to trust me enough to put an arm around him.  I want him to trust me so much that he’ll fall asleep there on the couch with me and enjoy resting in my arms. I want him to joke and laugh with me all the time, share things he loves with me, and miss me when I’m away from him. _

 

As fantasies went, Will had seen worse.  These didn’t seem too bad, but they were far more intimate than he’d ever be comfortable indulging.  It was fully likely that Hannibal could build these fantasies into something dangerous, and if Will failed to fulfill them, then he might react badly.  No, it was better not to indulge them at all if he could help it. Fulfilling one for whatever reason--inattention, being half-asleep, and so on--could get him into more trouble than he would be able to handle.  Still, he had to keep the danger that Hannibal posed in mind and balance it against his well-being and safety. If indulging one of those fantasies was the only way to keep himself safe and alive, he might have to allow it.

 

Shit, what a mess.

 

The next entry was a surprise.

 

_ Will’s been quiet these past few days, this morning included.  I should probably wake him, but I always feel so guilty when I do that.  He’s had so few peaceful rests in his life and I hate to interrupt one when he’s managed to find one, but it wouldn’t do for him to sleep all the time, as delightful as he looks asleep.   _

 

_ The past few days have been challenges for me.  Will watches me out of the corner of his eye as if he expects me to swoop down on him for...something.  At any rate, his guard is up and it remains up. He hasn’t shared what I could do to make my transgression up to him, and he’s increased his watchfulness and resumed distancing himself from me.  I would love for us to get back on our old footing, but I doubt that can be regained. All I can do is keep an eye on him. There are times when he’s sure I’m not watching and he relaxes a bit, but a sound or the sight me makes him go on alert again.  Most troubling is the way he’s always thinking, like I said before. I need to find better ways to distract him and hold his attention--what can I do that I haven’t tried? At the moment, it’s a question without an answer. I think back to when I was young and the many ways that either my nurse or my parents distracted me when I was restless, but I have no idea if those methods would work with Will.  I was a child and I wanted to be distracted; Will is an adult man who knows distraction can be fatal in the wrong circumstances. I suppose it might be quite the victory if I were able to distract him despite that. There has to be something I could do that would be effective. I will have to think about this carefully. _

 

Will heard footsteps coming down the hall and he flew to the desk to lock the journal back up.  He was starting another scale when Hannibal entered the study. “It’s dinnertime, Will.”

 

Will closed the piano and followed Hannibal to the dining room, his mind working furiously.  Hannibal wanted to find ways to distract him and keep him from thinking of a way to leave and he couldn’t be distracted from that.  How could he keep himself from being distracted while keeping Hannibal from getting too frustrated with his inability to be distracted?

 

His mind kept churning over the question while Hannibal served dinner for them both.  “Did you enjoy your practice, Will?”

 

Will shrugged.  “I’m surprised it hasn’t hurt your ears,” he said, digging into the vegetables.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve played.”

 

“If you practice regularly, I’m certain you’ll improve,” Hannibal told him.  “Just from hearing those scales I can tell you have a good ear for music.”

 

“I can give it a try,” Will said, not willing to commit himself. 

 

“Did you find yourself pleasantly busy today, Will?  Time did not hang too heavy on your hands?”

 

“Not really,” Will admitted.  

 

Hannibal nodded.  “I was wondering if there are any activities you would like to pursue.”

 

Will took a sip of water to hide the quirk of his lips that might have been called a smile in a different situation.  Hannibal must have come up empty after thinking of ways he could distract Will. “I’m not sure,” he confessed. “I’ve never had so much free time before--I don’t quite know how to fill it.  Not really.”

 

Again, Hannibal nodded.  “Hmm. Let me know if you think of something.  Remember, I still owe you some compensation for my actions.”

 

“Oh, trust me, I haven’t forgotten,” Will said.  “I’m just having trouble deciding.”

 

Hannibal moved the conversation to a different topic then and Will was content to let him.  Will had finished the slices of pork loin and vegetables on his plate and Hannibal went to get dessert.  He returned from the kitchen with feather-light chocolate mousses, one for each of them, and shortly Will was lost in chocolate bliss.  “Mmmmm. Oh, this is so good it’s beyond good.”

 

“Exquisite?” Hannibal offered.

 

“That might be the right word.”

 

After dinner Will helped Hannibal clean up, just like always, and he went with Hannibal to the sitting room.  “Chess, dominoes, or something else?” Hannibal asked.

 

“Dominoes.”

 

“All right.”

 

They played five rounds while touching on different topics of conversation and at last it was time for bed.  Will washed up, changed into his pajamas, and settled into bed just as Hannibal arrived with the book. They had reached the scene where Lucy had stood up to Madame Beck and Will wanted to see what happened next.  He’d looked for the book on the shelves downstairs but he supposed Hannibal had only the one copy. He was certain that he didn’t want to try searching Hannibal’s room for it just because he was impatient to see how the story would end, so that meant he would have to listen to Hannibal read it to him.  While he listened to Lucy’s story, he considered what he’d read earlier in Hannibal’s journal. Hannibal wished to distract him from finding a way to leave and Will wished to determine a way out. There had to be something he could cook up. How could he turn this situation to his advantage?

 

He was almost asleep when it came to him, and he smiled.  

 

Hannibal noticed.  “Something amusing, Will?”

 

Will marshalled his wits.  “Yeah. That Lucy’s got chutzpah.”

 

“That she does.”

 

Hannibal kept reading and Will snuggled further down into his pillows.  This might just work.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

“I know what you can do now,” Will said the next morning at breakfast.  He’d needed no prompting to dig into the ham, cheese, and spinach omelette on his plate or the toast with pumpkin butter and cinnamon, and he made the statement after he swallowed his first mouthful of food.

 

It took Hannibal a moment to catch on.  “Ah. Yes?”

 

“I like working on boat motors, so if you could get me a motor or two to work on and the tools to do it, then I’d appreciate it.  Also, I want to cook some meals.”

 

Hannibal looked like a fisherman who’d dropped a 20-pound tuna in the water.  “You...want to cook?”

 

“Yeah.  I’ve got some favorite meals.  You’re a really good cook and I enjoy the meals you make, but I would like to make some stuff that I’ve made and enjoyed before.  Would that be okay?”

 

If Hannibal had been a man with less self-possession, he would have squirmed in his chair.  “It will take some time to procure the motors and the tools, but I can do that, yes. I’d be glad to get you whatever you ask for since I have a strong feeling that it’s difficult for you to ask for things.  As for the meals...I’m sure you’ve guessed that I’ve made a nutritional plan for you and I plan our meals accordingly. You would have to let me know what you want to make so I can plan our other meals to ensure you continue receiving the nutrients you need.”

 

Will felt a wave of amusement.  He was well aware that Hannibal had been creating meals to match some sort of plan since he’d noticed that each lunch and dinner included as many vegetables as possible, and sometimes breakfast included them as well.  Fruit made an appearance at each meal, usually as a dessert, and with most meals Will had noted the addition of something containing milk. Such a plan was ensuring that Will was getting plenty of nutrients and getting enough calories that he was actually putting on some of weight he’d lost over the past six months.  The clothes he wore were no longer as baggy as they had been when he’d first arrived there and he could tell that Hannibal had seen this, too. Despite this knowledge, Hannibal sounded like a fussy nurse at a hospital mealtime! “It’s not like we’d be eating junk food, Hannibal.”

 

“No, I know that, but I do want to make sure, Will.”

 

Will thought about it.  The look on Hannibal’s face was priceless.  Evidently, he did not like to give up control over the kitchen, but Will could see him wavering.  “Okay. I can let you know what I plan to make the day before I want to make it. Would that be all right?”

 

Hannibal considered the offer and nodded.  “All right. That will work.”

 

“Thank you.  Could I make dinner tomorrow?”

 

Hannibal looked like the Bird of Foreboding had landed on his shoulder.  Was that a twinge of regret in his eyes? “Of course. What will you be making?”

 

“Barbecue bacon cheeseburgers with all the fixings, french fries, and milkshakes.”

 

Will heard the slightest whisper of noise from Hannibal, and in anyone else, it might have been a whimper.  “Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Will could tell that Hannibal wanted to say  _ No, absolutely not _ , but they both knew he’d given his word.  “All right. Make a list of the ingredients you’ll need and I’ll check the pantry and refrigerator to be sure we have everything you’ll need.  If not, then I’ll need to go into town.”

 

Will felt his ears prick up.  “Town?”

 

“It’s about forty-five minutes away,” Hannibal told him.  “I’ll need to secure you in your room while I’m gone.”

 

Will felt cold.  “Oh, no. No, please.  You won’t have to lock me up.  I’m willing to wait in the house for you; I promise I won’t go outside.”

 

Hannibal blinked.  “You have no trouble with having your door secured at night.  Are you frightened of being locked in your room while I’m gone, Will?”

 

Will’s shoulders hunched and he stared down at his plate, breakfast forgotten.  “Wallace would do that, sometimes. If he felt I was getting agitated. It’s funny that whenever I didn’t want to do something he wanted me to do, he’d say I was agitated and I’d end up on lockdown in my room.”

 

Hannibal leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed with thought.  “Hmmm. I can understand why you’d be reluctant for a similar experience.  Make that list for me and I’ll consider the problem while I check our supplies, all right?”

 

Will nodded.  He made an effort to finish his breakfast, but his appetite was gone.  He helped Hannibal clean up and made the list of what he’d need and went up to his room, nerves twitching.  He really, truly hoped Hannibal wouldn’t lock him up and leave him alone. He understood why Hannibal locked his door at night, but Will rarely noticed since he slept through the night.  During the day, if he were alone, anything could happen: a fire, Hannibal could be in an accident and not able to make it back, he could have a medical emergency and he would have no way of reaching Hannibal to tell him and no way of calling for help...He’d have to stop thinking about this, or he’d tie himself into an anxious knot.

 

Hannibal came upstairs and knocked on Will’s open door.  “All right, Will. I’ll have to make a run for some ingredients.  I’ve thought about the situation and really, the only way to make sure you’re secure and not lock you in your room is to take you with me.”

 

Will dropped the puzzle piece he was holding.  “You’d take me with you?”

 

“With conditions,” Hannibal said, holding up a hand.  “You would have to stick to the story, and you would have to stay by me at all times.  In the car, your hands will be restrained. I’ll also have to disguise you since your picture has been on the news.”

 

“How would you do that?”

 

“I’m going to trim and dye your hair, and I’ll give you a few props to use.  If you behave on this trip, then I’ll take you with me on future excursions, but if you attempt to run from me or summon help, then I will have no choice but to lock you in your room whenever I have to leave the house.  Do you understand?”

 

Will thought about it.  “Any chance we could do it without the dye and hair trim?”

 

“No.”

 

Will turned the situation over in his head and fought the urge to groan.  He really, really didn’t want his appearance changed, but to get out of the house for a while...It was too good a chance to miss.  “Okay. You can dye and trim my hair and I’ll stick to the rules. I won’t run from you and I won’t cause trouble.”

 

“I’m glad you agree.  Would you like to go today or tomorrow morning?”

 

“Today?”

 

“Let’s get your hair done, then.”

 

What followed was an uncomfortable period of time where Will was in a chair in the bathroom with a smock around his shoulders, having his hair trimmed and dyed.  “This will wash out, right?”

 

“After a few hair washes, yes,” Hannibal said, brushing the dye into Will’s hair.

 

“Good.”

 

A few hours later and Hannibal was using a blow dryer on Will’s hair and then combing it into style.  At last, he moved so Will could see himself in the mirror, and he whisked the smock off his shoulders.  “There. You look quite nice.”

 

Will stared at himself and left the chair to get a closer look.  He didn’t look nice. No, he didn’t look anything close to nice. Instead, he looked...not like himself.  “That’ll take some getting used to.”

 

“It will only be for a few days,” Hannibal promised.  “Would you like to go after lunch?”

 

“That sounds good,” Will said, brushing at his hair with his fingers.  He was now blond. Blond--bright, yellow blond. “Why did you go with blond?”

 

“It’s as unlike your usual hair color as it can be.  The other option was a bright, carrotty red, and I have a feeling you would not have liked it.  You dislike drawing your attention to yourself and red hair is something that people always notice.”

 

Will fought down a shudder as he thought about all those eyes on him.  “You’re right.”

 

Lunch was chicken pot pie, delicious and filling, with lots of chicken and vegetables.  While they ate, Hannibal began to tell him what he needed to know.

 

“We’ll go directly after lunch--I doubt my nerves will let me wait an hour for your rest.”

 

Will looked at Hannibal, surprised.  “I won’t have to lay down?”

 

“No.”

 

Will hid his smile by taking a sip of water.  “That’s all right with me.”

 

Hannibal ignored the poorly-hidden glee.  “When I brought us here, on my first trip to town, people were naturally curious about the newcomer,” he said before taking a sip of his water.  “I told them that I was a doctor and that yes, I did have someone staying with me. If anyone asks, you can tell them you are a patient under my care.  They may be nosy and ask why; you can tell them collapse and strain from overwork. If they ask what your work is, tell them you are a business consultant.  If they ask your name, tell them Warren Holland.”

 

“A nice, forgettable name.”

 

“Precisely.  Now, part of your persona is that you are blind--you’ll wear dark glasses to hide your eye color and I have a cane for you to carry, but I’ll also give you my arm to guide you.  Don’t give it away that you can actually see. Do you understand?”

 

Will nodded.  “Yes.”

 

“Now, since you are a private patient, it follows that you must have a great deal of money.  I suggest you wear something other than jeans and a sweater.”

 

Will nearly swore under his breath.  Of course Hannibal wouldn’t allow the chance to dress him up pass him by.  “Okay.”

 

They cleaned up after lunch and Will went upstairs to his room to change.  He chose black dress pants, a blue dress shirt and tie, a matching blazer, and matching shoes.  When he looked at himself in the mirror, he found himself staring open-mouthed at his reflection.  He looked like a magazine model. He thought about the winter coat he had to wear and it was a nice, outdoorsy coat, but it didn’t really fit with what he was wearing.  Hmm.

 

He went downstairs.  “How’s this?”

 

Hannibal looked up from the grocery list he was writing and smiled warmly.  “That’s absolutely perfect, Will. Just what I had in mind.”

 

“People’ll notice that my coat doesn’t match my outfit.”

 

Hannibal gave him another smile and went to the hall closet.  “This one will,” he said, plucking a long, black wool overcoat from a hanger and holding it out for Will to slip his arms into.  “Here you are.”

 

Will slipped his arms into the coat and Hannibal set it across his shoulders, making sure that it sat where it was supposed to be and that the collar was straight.  “A perfect fit.” He handed Will a matching scarf and leather gloves. 

 

“I look like a magazine model,” Will said, slipping them on.

 

“It would be a successful career choice, Will.”

 

The mood in the room was getting a little too heavy for his taste.  “You flatterer, you.”

 

Hannibal chuckled, the mood lightened, and he turned back to his list to finish it while Will studied his reflection.  “So, red hair would draw attention, but a blind man dressed like a model won’t draw attention?”

 

Hannibal finished his list and tucked it into his pocket.  “No, it wouldn’t. You see, if people know I have one person staying with me who is blind and blond-haired, they won’t look for another person, a brown-haired, glasses-wearing FBI consultant named Will Graham.  Thus, suspicion will be avoided.”

 

“Would me saying that I hope it won’t be grounds for calling off the trip?”

 

“It’s a natural hope to have, Will,” Hannibal assured him.  “And no, it won’t call off the trip. I can tell you’re looking forward to it.”  He went to a cabinet and pulled out a folding white cane with a red tip and handed it to Will, along with a glasses case.  “Your props.”

 

Will took the glasses out of the case and slipped them on before looking in the mirror again.  If he thought about it, then he looked like a guy who was blind, especially when he unfolded the cane and held it in front of himself the way he’d seen a blind person do.

 

“Perfect, Will,” Hannibal praised.  “Ready?”

 

“Definitely.”  After being stuck in the same place for ages with only Hannibal for company, he was eager to see someplace new and see some new faces, if surreptitiously.

 

Hannibal led the way to the garage and settled Will in his seat, making sure to cuff his hands once he was belted in.  Hannibal joined Will in the car, opened the garage door, and backed out of the garage, turned, and headed down the driveway.  They reached the wall and keypad, and Hannibal told Will to turn his face away as he entered the code.

 

“It’s not like I can see all that well without my real glasses,” Will pointed out.  Hannibal had not given them to him, so he figured they were probably lost when Hannibal snatched him.

 

“Best not to take chances.”

 

They turned left out of the gate and then they were on the road, headed into town.  Will’s eyes were hungry for the sights of new places, and he studied each house on the way.  Most of them were distant blobs, but he was able to make out their colors by peeking over the top of the sunglasses.  At one white farmhouse with a red roof, he saw a man outside, followed by what had to be a dog, and he nearly bashed his forehead into the glass when he leaned forward to get a closer look.

 

Hannibal chuckled.  “See something interesting, Will?”

 

“A dog.”

 

“Ah.”

 

They passed stone cottages, wooden farmhouses, brick farmhouses, empty fields, and fields with cows, horses, or sheep.  “This is a farming community?”

 

“Quite a charming one, I think,” Hannibal said.  “Everyone was very friendly the last time I was in town.  All of them wanted to know who the new owner of the ‘old estate’ was and introduce themselves.”

 

“I wonder what they thought of you.”

 

Hannibal kept his eyes on the road.  “As far as I could tell, they enjoyed meeting me.”

 

“Uh-huh.”  Will returned to studying their surroundings since he didn’t trust himself to answer.  If only they knew their new neighbor was...whatever Hannibal was. “Uh, just to be sure--what name do you use here?  I don’t want to call you the wrong thing, right?”

 

“I use my own--Hannibal Lecter.”

 

Will’s eyebrows headed toward his hairline.  Gutsy move, and it spoke of a great deal of confidence on Hannibal’s part that he wouldn’t be caught.  “Okay. Dr. Lecter.”

 

“Just call me Hannibal, Will.”

 

“Since they’ll know me as your patient, shouldn’t I call you ‘Dr. Lecter’?”

 

“Not if we’ve know each other for some time, and you have my permission to use my given name.  Call me Hannibal, Will.”

 

That sounded like an ultimatum, of a sort, so Will nodded and leaned back in his seat and studied the sheep field outside his window.  He did a double-take and realized that they weren’t sheep, they were alpacas. “Alpacas?”

 

“Probably owned by whomever owns the textiles shop in town.  There are a lot of handmade alpaca sweaters on display.”

 

“Yeah, just a bit surprised to see them when I looked out the window.  I was expecting sheep, and lo and behold, there’s alpacas.”

 

“They surprised me, too, the first time I saw them.  With the way they move, from a distance I thought they were some rare breed of tiny camels.”

 

Will studied the fluffy coats of the alpacas and saw the resemblance.  “That would make sense, but I wonder what someone would use a tiny camel for.  It couldn’t carry heavy loads or be ridden.”

 

Hannibal chuckled.  “Cuteness?”

 

“That would have to be it.”

 

Will thought about it and let his thoughts wander.  “What is the town like?”

 

“There is one main street where most of the shops are located.  There is a hardware store, a mercantile store, a grocery store, a farmer’s market, a bakery, a few other small shops selling various things, the textiles shop I mentioned, a bookstore, a cafe, and three restaurants, one of which is a pizza establishment.  There is a sweet shop, which has an old-fashioned soda fountain, ice cream, and handmade chocolates. A plaza at the far end contains the courthouse, the public library, and police station. There is one church at the other end of the street next to a small theater and the town park, and another church is two streets away.  The streets around the main street generally have only houses, but there is an auto and body shop several streets over, where they also work on farm equipment.”

 

“Sounds like a nice little place.  Where do the kids go to school?”

 

“They’re bussed to county schools ten miles outside of town.”

 

“Oh.”  

 

As they reached the top of a hill, Will looked down and saw it and felt himself smile.  “It looks like a town on a greeting card!”

 

“I told you it was nice.  We are just in time for the farmer’s market.” 

 

Hannibal drove into the town and located a parking space, well out of sight of anyone.  “Do you have any questions about the rules?”

 

“No.”  He was eager to get out of the car and see the town.

 

Hannibal pulled out the key to unlock the handcuffs.  “All right. Just try not to let your enthusiasm carry you away, Will.  You will stay seated until I open your car door for you, and you’ll take my arm when I move your hand to it.  You may let go of my arm and take a maximum of three steps away from me, if you like, but any further and I will take it as an attempt to slip away.  Sometimes I will move away from you; when that happens, you will stand where you are and wait until I return to give you my arm again. Do you understand?”

 

“I understand.  I promise, I won’t break any rules.”  This time, Will amended silently to himself.  He needed Hannibal to trust him enough to take him out of the house regularly so he would have opportunities to escape later.  The more he was away from the house, the better his chances were.

 

Hannibal gave him an indulgent smile.  “All right, let’s go.”

 

Will let Hannibal help him out of the car and took Hannibal’s arm when he moved his hand to it.  “What’s your name?” Hannibal asked quietly.

 

“Warren Holland.”

 

“Good.  The farmer’s market is this way.”

 

The farmer’s market was already crowded with people and stalls, and will saw every kind of fruit and vegetable available...at the start of winter.  

 

“You’re frowning, Warren.”

 

“You said this is a farmer’s market, but what do they have to sell at the start of winter?”

 

Hannibal understood the question: why were there fruits and vegetables on sale at that time when everything should have been harvested and sold weeks ago?  “Many of the farmers have greenhouses, Warren. They have almost everything we’ll need.”

 

“Oh.  I see...or don’t.”

 

Hannibal chuckled at the joke and patted Will’s hand before leading Will into the thick of things.

 

The first stall they stopped at had tomatoes and a heater blowing into the space where the patrons would stand.  The woman behind the counter looked up and spotted them. “Well, hello, Dr. Lecter!” she said brightly. “It’s good to see you again!  Who’s your friend?”

 

Deciding to be proactive, Will moved the cane to his other hand and held out his right hand to shake.  “Warren Holland. I’m staying with Dr. Lecter.”

 

Will was six inches too far away for her to reach her hand, so Hannibal shifted him closer.  “Now you can reach.”

 

The woman shook his hand, smiling.  “Sally Ames. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Holland.  Always nice to see a new face around here.” Then she realized what she’d just said and blushed, looking uncomfortably at Will.

 

“I agree, always nice to meet someone new,” Will said to salvage the situation.  “Let me guess...you sell tomatoes?”

 

Her mouth dropped open a bit.  “How did you know that?”

 

“I can smell tomatoes.”

 

She let out a gale of laughter that was delightful to hear after Hannibal’s quiet chuckles.  “You’re right! Very good, Mr. Holland!”

 

“Oh, just call me Warren.  Everyone does.”

 

“Well, you can call me Sally, Warren.”

 

What followed was a pleasant ten minutes with Sally while Hannibal selected some tomatoes.  Will heard all about Sally’s husband, her children, her grandchildren, and how the eldest grandson was expecting a child of his own.  He heard all about her farm and how she and her husband kept themselves busy. At last Hannibal announced his selections had been made and they moved on to another stall after bidding Sally goodbye.  She waved them off, saying that she hoped to see them again soon.

 

“I like her.  She’s very friendly.”

 

“That she is,” Hannibal agreed.  “Lettuce choose some lettuce, shall we?”

 

Will nearly stopped in his tracks.  “Did you just make a pun?”

 

“Hmmm, I may have, once a pun a time.”

 

“Oh, Lord,” Will groaned, unable to keep from smiling.  Hannibal’s humor showed up at the oddest times.

 

They picked out lettuce and onions, with “Warren” being introduced to each person who greeted them.  After they finished at the farmer’s market they headed to the grocery store to pick up what else was on Hannibal’s list.  Feeling a bit like a child, Will held onto the grocery cart and let himself be steered around the store, just looking at things and enjoying seeing a new place and new faces.  For a small town they had a pretty well-stocked grocery store. Once they were in an aisle by themselves, Will asked about it.

 

“There is a resort close by, popular with outdoor enthusiasts.  It’s best if the local shops can cater to them,” Hannibal explained, examining two bottles of olive oil and choosing the more expensive one.  Will nearly winced at the price but then he remembered that he wasn’t purchasing anything.

 

They stopped at the butcher’s counter and Will got to hear the butcher chatter while he ground up some fresh beef for the burgers Will wanted to make.  He also supplied some lamb chops, beef steaks, stew meat, chicken fillets, and when asked for it, a few packets of fish, scallops, and shrimp. “Fresh this morning,” he said, wrapping up the requested items.  “You know, Dr. Lecter, I’m starting to think you time your shopping expeditions to coincide with the truck deliveries.”

 

“Having the freshest ingredients is important,” Hannibal answered, placing the items in their cart.  “Thank you for your help today.”

 

“My pleasure.  You both take care.”

 

While they were checking out the cashier kept glancing at Will, but Will ignored her and stared at one point instead.  He really, truly wanted a Snickers bar. “Could we get some candy? I kind of miss it, and I swear I can smell chocolate.”

 

Hannibal stared at him.  “That’s not in your nutritional plan, Warren.”

 

“I know, but it’d be kind of nice.”

 

“Let’s build you up a bit more before we tax your digestion with junk food.”

 

Will decided to tease him a little.  “It’s not junk food. Chocolate comes from plants, so technically, chocolate would be a vegetable.”

 

He could see the cashier trying not to laugh, her eyes dancing with amusement.  “We have a special--two for one for regular size candy bars, a dollar fifty.”

 

Will grinned.  “That sounds perfect.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Hannibal said, eighty-sixing the notion.

 

Will started checking his pockets, sliding his hands into each, searching.  “Did I give you my spending money?”

 

“Neither of us brought your spending money, and the answer is no, Warren.”

 

“And Dr. Lecter’s foot is down,” Will sighed.  “Okay.”

 

The cashier laughed and finished their total.  Will nearly had heart failure but then he reminded himself that Hannibal was paying for everything.  One day soon, Will swore to himself, a chocolate bar would be in their purchases, and maybe perhaps some potato chips or Cheetos.  He would consider it quite the success if he managed it before he escaped.

 

They left the grocery store to take their purchases to the car.  “Are we going back already?” Will asked, feeling his heart drop. 

 

“We don’t have to, if you’d like to walk through the other shops,” Hannibal offered.  “You just have to remember the rules.”

 

A woman hurried past, glancing at them nervously and Will wondered if she’d heard.  He decided that it wasn’t his problem. “I will. I promise.”

 

“All right.  Where would you like to go first?”

 

“The bookstore?”

 

Hannibal locked the trunk and looked at Will, suddenly looking very pleased.  “Would you like to make some purchases?”

 

“As a blind man?  I don’t think they’d have a lot of Braille books.”

 

“If anyone asks, we can always say that I read to you.”

 

“Let’s not volunteer that, all right?  Just if they ask. How much…? I mean, me choosing things…”  He wasn’t sure how to frame the question.

 

“You may choose whatever you like and not worry about the cost,” Hannibal assured him.  “When we go in, I’ll read some authors or titles to you, and you let me know which ones you’re interested in.”

 

Will nodded and they headed to the bookstore.  As soon as they walked in Will felt his eyes bouncing around, trying to take everything in.  He’d been reading a lot more since waking up in Hannibal’s so-called “care,” simply for something to do, and it was nice having new things to read.  Looking for new things to read was even better. 

 

Hannibal took him straight to the classics section, which was annoying, but then he started reading off titles:  _ War of the Worlds, Count of Monte Cristo, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, The Mysterious Island, King Solomon’s Mines, Captain Blood, The Sea Wolf, Captains Courageous, Scaramouche, Night Flight _ ...For each book Hannibal read the title and the author as well as the summary from the dust jacket or back of the book, and Will found himself wanting most of them.  The one he rejected entirely was  _ War of the Worlds _ , which had given him nightmares as a kid, and the thought of reading it again made him nervous.  He’d later read a magazine article about the night that the book had been read as a radio play and that it had caused mass panic.  Having read that book, he believed it. He’d read  _ Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea _ and  _ The Count of Monte Cristo _ before and he’d enjoyed them immensely, but he was surprised that Hannibal offered to buy them for him since he’d seen copies of the same books on Hannibal’s shelves.

 

“For you to keep,” Hannibal said quietly when he noticed Will’s confusion.

 

“Oh,” Will said, his surprise almost too much to handle.  “Thank you.”

 

They visited the other sections of the store and Hannibal would sometimes guess what Will wanted before Will could cue him.  It would look odd for a blind man to purchase a crossword puzzle book, but not for a man who could see, so Hannibal would drop things into their handbasket without prompting.  He also picked up two contemporary novels that caught Will’s attention and a book on fishing. They were in the section of the store that sold stationery when Will positioned himself just in front of a shelf of journals.  He wanted, more than anything else, a blank book to write his thoughts in--there were only so many sheets of drawing paper he could cram under that cabinet in the bathroom--but he was sure that it would prove irresistible to Hannibal.  It would be better if he didn’t write what he was thinking down, but he could let himself enjoy the thought.

 

“Something the matter, Warren?” Hannibal asked when Will tarried there a little too long.

 

“I can smell leather,” he said after a moment.  “My father used to wear a leather jacket in really cold weather.  I always liked the smell. It’s an odd smell for a bookstore.”

 

“Leather-bound journals,” Hannibal said, plucking one from the shelf and turning it over in his hand.  “Which reminds me, I need some new journals.” So saying, he dropped two of them into the basket. “Thank you for the reminder.  Is there anything else you’d like to examine?”

 

Will shook his head, his mind working.  He was sure that Hannibal had picked up one of those blank books for him.  Could he write in it safely without Hannibal prying? 

 

They checked out and their books placed in a canvas bag for them to carry.  Hannibal led Will outside and he stopped, looking right and left. He made a decision and led Will to the mercantile store, which was the epitome of an old country store, complete with a set of brass scales on the front counter and jars of penny candy.  Hannibal led him up and down the aisles, describing the merchandise for sale and even picking some things up and putting them in Will’s hands so he could examine them himself. Will stuck to his persona and examined things with his hands, sometimes asking questions.  He was holding a tackle box and running his fingers over the compartments when a voice behind him startled him. 

 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter!  Now, who’s this?”

 

Will dropped the box and had to bite back a curse as it landed on his foot.  It wasn’t heavy, but the corners were just pointy enough to be painful.

 

“Are you all right?” Hannibal asked, seeing Will wince and picking up the box.  “This is Warren Holland, sheriff. He’s staying with me. Warren?”

 

“I’m fine; just startled,” Will said, feeling the pain in his foot start to subside.  He’d have a bruise, for sure. He turned carefully and held out his hand to a man who could have been the model for the character of “small town sheriff.”  He was fully aware that he wasn’t angled quite right for the sheriff to reach him easily and to his satisfaction, the sheriff had to shift to shake his hand.  “Warren Holland, Sheriff…?”

 

“O’Donovan,” the sheriff said, looking Will up and down.  “So, you that mystery patient everybody’s been talking about?”

 

“Sheriff O’Donovan,” Hannibal protested.

 

“Ah, come on, Dr. Lecter; everybody in town knows he’s not a friend and he’s not a significant other, so what else could he be, you being a doctor?”  

 

“Makes it easier, with no secrets to keep,” Will said with a shrug, turning his head in Hannibal’s direction.  “I’m not worried about it, Hannibal. It’s okay.”

 

“Word among people is that you’ve been sick,” O’Donovan said, shifting an item on the shelf.  “You doing better now?”

 

Will nodded.  “I have more good days than bad days, which is good.  Hannibal’s been watching after me and making sure that I don’t try to do too much.”

 

“You make that sound a great deal easier than it is,” Hannibal sighed behind him.  “And you like to debate my decisions.”

 

Will smiled.  “It passes the time.”

 

Hannibal paused.  “Nice to have one suspicion confirmed.”

 

O’Donovan started chuckling.  “You two always like this?”

 

“Warren is one of those most dangerous of patients who does not like to be cared for by others and he does not like to be told what he can and cannot do,” Hannibal said, sounding like a man who’d suffered long and hard with a trial no human being should have to face.  “It seems he’s refined the practice of finding loopholes to every rule in place into an art.”

 

“I wouldn’t have to find loopholes if you were reasonable about things,” Will said, more than eager to stir that particular pot.  “I may be recovering, but I’m not helpless.”

 

Hannibal walked up to Will’s side and Will could see him pursing his lips.  He was annoyed.

 

“And that’s my signal to go,” Sheriff O’Donovan said, shaking his head.  “Try not to shed any blood, all right? You gentlemen have a nice day.”

 

They bid the sheriff goodbye and Will could see Hannibal thinking hard.  After a minute he leaned close to Will and straightened the collar of his coat.  “Playacting?”

 

“Do you think it worked?”

 

“Admirably.  Well done, Warren.”

 

Will nodded and followed Hannibal out into the street a short while later.  He might have convinced the sheriff that he was what Hannibal said he was, but he could tell that the man had been suspicious and that Hannibal had picked up on it.  If Hannibal became nervous about taking Will into town due to the presence of the sheriff, then Will could kiss any chance of a later escape goodbye, so he’d played the part.  He could always drop the persona of Warren Holland and reveal his true nature to the sheriff later. Let Hannibal try to explain  _ that _ away.

 

They were close to the sweet shop when someone stopped Hannibal to chat with him.  The door to the sweet shop was open and Will took the allowed three steps away from Hannibal, holding his cane out in front of him.  He could smell something absolutely delicious and he was curious as to what it was. A wave of heat from the open door hit him, keeping him toasty and he was content to stand there, enjoying the aroma of chocolate and sugar.

 

A young woman with brown hair behind the counter noticed him, picked up a plate, and carried it over.  “Free sample?”

 

Will sniffed deeply.  “Chocolate?”

 

“Chocolate fudge,” she said.  “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

 

Will nodded.  “I’m staying with Dr. Lecter.  Incidentally, is he looking this way?”

 

“His back’s to you.”

 

Will smiled.  Good. “I’m allowed to have some?”

 

“More than one piece, if you like,” she assured him.  “Go ahead. Just lift your right hand about six inches and you’ll be able to take a piece.” 

 

“Don’t tell him I did this,” Will said, following her instructions, and soon he was biting into some of the best fudge he’d ever had.  “Mmm. Oh, this is so good.”

 

“It’s my favorite recipe,” she said.  “Go ahead and have another. It’s fine.”

 

Will was halfway through his second piece when he heard Hannibal.  “Warren, what are you eating?”

 

Will jumped, almost dropping the fudge.  “Please don’t sneak up on me like that! I’m eating...something delicious.”

 

“Apologies, but I was sure that you could hear me coming since I was in no way quiet about it.  Didn’t we have this conversation already? Candies are not in your nutritional plan.”

 

“Just a little bit won’t make me sick,” Will told him, finishing off the bit of fudge he still had in his hand.  “Thank you very much; that made my day.”

 

“You’re very welcome,” she said, smiling at him.

 

“How much of that has he had?” Hannibal wanted to know.

 

“Just two pieces,” Will said.  “That’s all.”

 

“Two big pieces,” Hannibal corrected.

 

“They were normal-sized ones!”

 

“I can show you the ingredient list, if you’re worried that he’s eaten something he shouldn’t have,” she offered, carrying the plate to the counter and fetching  a book from underneath it.

 

Will sighed, ready to smack Hannibal for being unreasonable, but a noise made him pause and forget about Hannibal’s fussiness.  A door had opened, a bell had rung, but that other noise... He turned slowly, listening, and then he saw a sign two doors down.  Carefully, he made his way toward it and made it inside the shop, the bell over his head ringing as he entered, almost lost in the cacophony that was a small pet shop.

 

“May I help you?” 

 

Will jumped as the proprietor stepped out from behind a shelf.  He was a wizened little man with a wrinkled face and a kind smile.

 

“I..thought I heard puppies?”

 

The man put a hand on his arm.  “This way.”

 

Ten minutes later, Will heard the bell clatter as the door was yanked open and someone rushed inside.  Will paid the intruder no mind as he was busy with three little rambunctious balls of fur that were intent on licking him to death.  He couldn’t stop grinning.

 

“Warren.”

 

Will gave one puppy a belly rub and grinned.  “Hi, Dr. Lecter.”

 

“You disappeared on me.  I was very worried.”

 

Will picked the puppy up and cuddled it.  “I was right here.”

 

“We agreed that you wouldn’t leave my side while we were in town.”

 

Ah, shit, shit, shit.  How could he best get out of this mess?  He thought fast. “I couldn’t help myself.”

 

“I’m sure you could have.”

 

Damn, he was still mad.  He held the puppy up closer to his face and cuddled it again as it licked him.  “But they  _ called _ to me, and I miss my dogs.”

 

He could see Hannibal softening.  “All right. We’ll discuss this later.  I think it’s time to head home.”

 

Will almost started wailing in despair.  “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

 

The proprietor was looking like an indulgent uncle and Hannibal almost melted at Will’s plea.  “All right. A few more minutes, but when I say it’s time to go, we’ll have to go. Agreed?”

 

“Agreed.”

 

Will spent a blissful ten minutes then, enjoying the company of the puppies and loving on them as much as he could.  He was sure there would be consequences for slipping away like that, but it was all to the good. If he slipped away on future trips, then the pet store was the most likely place Hannibal would look for him.

 

It didn’t always follow that Will would be there


	9. Chapter 9

Hannibal got him back to the car, seat-belted him in, and took his seat next to Will quickly after stowing their purchases in the back seat.  “Hands together, Will.”

 

Fighting down a sigh, Will did as he was told and had his hands cuffed together.  Hannibal started the car and pulled out of the parking lot while Will reached up and plucked off the dark glasses.  He was tired of wearing them, so he put them in his lap and leaned back in his seat, suddenly tired. He wasn’t about to tell Hannibal about it, though, because then he would start harping on about why his afternoon rests were so important.  They’d had a similar conversation before when Will had complained about having to take a rest every day. Hannibal had been immovable on the issue and Will had given up. It was easier to lay down and pretend to rest for an hour than it was to argue with Hannibal.

 

They drove for a few minutes and then once they were out of town, Hannibal glanced at him.  “I would like to talk about today.”

 

Damn, here it was.  “Okay.”

 

“You went further than the three steps allowed.”

 

Will nodded.  “Yeah.”

 

“If I were to stick to the conditions outlined earlier, then you would not be having another trip into town again.”

 

Damn, damn, damn.  “I understand.” He could always figure out a way over that damned wall.  He’d have plenty of time for it.

 

What a depressing thought.

 

“I’d like to hear your side of things, though, before I make any decisions.”

 

“My side?”

 

“Yes,” Hannibal said, keeping his eyes on the road.  “You knew what the rules were and you had powerful motivation not to break them.  What motivated you to break them anyway?”

 

Will thought about it.  “I suppose...I guess it was the sounds the puppies were making.  Dogs, they make lots of noises that let you know if they’re happy, hungry, playful, scared, or if they’re sad.  Those puppies...they were making the same kind of noises babies make when they want attention. I just...wanted to make sure they weren’t feeling unloved.  I guess I was thinking about my dogs and I’ve been hoping that Alana has either started to love them or she’s found good people who’ll love them for me.” A tickling sensation on his cheek made him reach up to brush whatever it was away, but he was startled when his fingers came back wet.  It was tears he was feeling on his face.

 

His feelings did a kamikaze then as memories of his dogs and playing outside and cuddling on the couch with them hit him.  He fought against it for maybe three seconds before he couldn’t hold it off any longer, and then he was crying, and he couldn’t stop.  He hunched his shoulders, looked down at his lap, and just let go, letting himself cry.

 

“Will?” Hannibal said once he realized what was going on.  “What’s wrong?”

 

Will tried to answer and gave up.  If Hannibal couldn’t figure it out, then he wasn’t going to waste his breath to tell him.

 

Hannibal pulled over to the side of the road, turned on the hazards, and unbuckled his belt so he could reach Will.  “Will, please try to talk to me.”

 

Will took a deep breath, choked, and kept crying.  He didn’t care that Hannibal was concerned. He didn’t care that Hannibal was starting to look nervous; he just wanted to cry and not think anymore.  Hannibal could go fuck himself if he wanted.

 

“Will, please, I’m very worried.  Please tell me what’s the matter.”

 

“Fuck you,” Will choked out.  “You motherfucking bastard. Kidnapping me, keeping me here...You’ve stolen my life just to prove a fucking point and you didn’t care what it cost me!  I don’t get to have my job anymore, I don’t get to live in my home, I don’t get to see my dogs, I don’t get to see people I know and I don’t even get to wear my own clothes!”  Rage hit then, and Will threw himself at Hannibal, ready to choke the life out of him. “Fuck you! I fucking  _ hate _ you!  I wish you would fucking  _ die _ !”

 

If Will had been able to get the handcuffs over Hannibal’s head, it would have been a done deal.  As it was, Hannibal was too fast and he turned and caught Will’s hands to force them down. In another second he’d turned again and steadied himself and pressed Will against his seat, holding him still.  “Ssssshhhhhh,” Hannibal said, getting one arm around him. “Sssshhhhhh-ssssshhh, Will. Just let yourself breathe. Cry some more if you want. Just let it out, all right?”

 

“Fuck you!” Will shouted, trying to twist out from under Hannibal.

 

“Easy, now,” Hannibal said, not budging.  “Take some deep breaths for me.”

 

It was incredible: Will was doing his level best to kill Hannibal, and Hannibal was trying to comfort him.

 

Red and blue lights behind them made them both tense, and Hannibal pressed closer to Will to speak in his ear.  

 

“You are to stick to your persona, Will, while I speak to Sheriff O’Donovan,” he said, his voice low and earnest.  “You are to do nothing to make him suspicious and you are not to attempt to tell him who you really are. If you do either of those things, then I will move us immediately to another location and you will not leave it at all.  Do you understand?”

 

Will tried to push away but then he got a look at Hannibal’s face and he understood.  Hannibal wasn’t just serious, he was dead serious. If he had to relocate Will, it was likely that Will would never be allowed outside, even for fresh air.  If he tried to make his true identity and situation known to the sheriff and the sheriff failed to believe him, then things could get very bad for him, especially if Hannibal became angry.  Since he still didn’t know the boundaries of Hannibal’s patience, he nodded and let himself go limp.

 

Sheriff O’Donovan knocked on the passenger side window.  “Everything okay, Dr. Lecter?”

 

Hannibal rolled the window down an inch or two.  “We’re all right, Sheriff. Warren just got a bit upset.”

 

“From what I saw, he was more than upset; he looked ready to choke you.”

 

“It’s been a trying day for him.”

 

“Mr. Holland?”

 

Will turned his head slightly to show he was listening.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Will nodded.  “Just upset.”

 

O’Donovan looked at Hannibal.  “Dr. Lecter, could I have a word, just the two of us?”

 

Hannibal got out of the car, taking the keys with him, and he locked Will into the car before stepping back toward Sheriff O’Donovan’s squad car.  Will watched them in the passenger side mirror. Sheriff O’Donovan asked a question and Hannibal began to speak. After a moment he opened his coat and removed a sheaf of papers and unfolded them.  He held them out to Sheriff O’Donovan, still speaking, and Sheriff O’Donovan took the papers and began reading. Every now and then he would ask a question and Hannibal would answer, but Will could not hear anything clearly.  The rise and fall of Hannibal’s voice sounded a bit like when Hannibal would read to him as he fell asleep. For some strange reason, he was starting to feel drowsy just from listening to it.

 

The two men headed back towards the Bentley as the sheriff handed the papers back to Hannibal.  “Just wanted to make sure the two of you were okay. Sorry to bother you, doctor.”

 

“No trouble at all, sheriff,” Hannibal assured him.  “If you have any further questions, you know how to contact me.”

 

Hannibal joined Will in the car, got himself settled, and drove off.  Behind them Will could see the sheriff’s car turning and heading back into town.  “What did he want?”

 

Hannibal smiled as he drove.  “To make sure you weren’t a danger to me or to others.  There are a lot of rumors flying around the town about you and they’ve only become stronger after showing our faces in town.  Everyone is concerned that I stuck so close to you and that you managed to slip away from me--they’re afraid you may be dangerous.  I reassured him that you were not.”

 

“What did he say about the handcuffs?”  Will was certain that the sheriff had to have seen them.

 

“That I had permission from your family to restrain you if necessary and for your safety,” Hannibal said smoothly.  “I showed him notarized papers to that effect and the details of your care and the measures I may take to ensure your safety and continued well-being. Those papers are to be shared with the authorities in case law enforcement became involved.  Your parents were quite concerned at your state of mind and so signed you into my exclusive care. It is stated that this care shall last until you and I have accomplished your full mental and physical recovery. They felt a less stimulating environment with constant care provided by a physician they trusted was what you needed.  I am required to make notes of your condition daily and report to your parents weekly. I have kept medical notes on a Warren Holland since the start of your stay with me, so any documentation we might need is already in place.”

 

“How did you get those papers notarized when they’re false and Warren Holland doesn’t exist?  And what if Sheriff O’Donovan decides to contact my so-called parents?”

 

“That’s been taken care of,” Hannibal assured him.  “Should Sheriff O’Donovan use the contact information for your parents I provided him, he will speak with two people who can aver that you are their son and that you are in my care.  Should he search for them online, he will find ample evidence that they are an old, established family that is quite wealthy. As for the notarization, I managed it--it was almost easy in comparison.  You won’t need to worry about it.”

 

“I wasn’t worried,” Will said, his head buzzing with Hannibal’s elaborate plan.  How the hell had one man managed all that? On some level, it explained Hannibal’s confidence in using his own name and already taking him into town.  He hadn’t just built a cover; he’d made a fortress. “You’re sure your little set-up’ll fool him? Law enforcement is pretty good at spotting false fronts.”

 

“Oh, yes.  Quite sure.  I have no qualms about it.”

 

“And the people who are posing as my parents?”

 

“Well-paid actors who are sworn to confidentiality for the benefit of my patient.  I gave them quite a different story on your background and condition than I provided Sheriff O’Donovan, but they understand that their roles will benefit you, and they know what to say to anyone who might happen to call them about you.  I’ve told them there can be no cracks in the facade. I framed the ruse as part of an unorthodox therapy to help a traumatized man recover from losing his parents to a murder by the young man’s beloved uncle. They will do as they are supposed to, and they have all the appropriate props to do it, lavish home impress others included.”

 

Will thought about it.  “Just how many houses do you own?”

 

“Enough for my purposes,” Hannibal said, glancing at him with a smile before returning his eyes to the road.

 

Will thought about the actors.  “Just how is this unorthodox therapy supposed to help someone who suffered something like that?”  Will was sure that such a therapy might further traumatize any patient who suffered such a loss and he had a hard time believing that anyone would fall for that line.

 

Hannibal gave him another enigmatic smile.  “Trust the process, Will. These actors understand that they may be required to interact with you at some point and that the facade must be maintained at all costs until you come to the realization that these two who look, act, and sound like your parents are not actually your parents.  Think of it as a desensitization exercise, if that helps.”

 

Will tried to think of it in that light but failed.  If he considered the whole plan, it was incredibly complex.  If it fell apart, it might help him get away from Hannibal and back to his life.  If it remained in place, then it might be a more secure prison than the house and grounds with that stupid wall.  If he managed to escape and people believed Hannibal’s set-up, then he might be taken back to Hannibal immediately.

 

It was like feeling a rope wrap itself around his body.  With each new thing he learned, he could feel more of that rope wrapping around him, holding him even more securely than before.  If he did manage to make it away from Hannibal, and if he managed to get home, would the net Hannibal had woven manage to hold him even there?  Would the Wolf Trap police search for him and find Warren Holland instead of Will Graham? 

 

It was a terrifying thought.

 

Unreality set in then, making his chest tighten and his entire body feel cold.  He was quiet all through the rest of the drive and still quiet as Hannibal parked the car in the garage and uncuffed his hands.  He was quiet while he helped unload the car and put the groceries away, and then he was just done. He turned and went upstairs, straight to his room, and he closed the door behind him without a word.  It was too bad that he couldn’t lock it.

 

It was six-forty that evening and Will was ten minutes late for dinner.  He was stretched out on his bed, feeling heavy and tired and completely apathetic about everything in his life.  There was nothing and no one that was going to get him off of that bed.

 

He had relaxed enough to fall into a doze when a knock on his door brought him back to awareness.  “Will? It’s dinner time; why haven’t you come down? Are you all right?”

 

Will didn’t answer, but he did keep an eye on the door.

 

Another knock.  “Will?”

 

Another knock.  “Will, please answer me.”

 

Hannibal tried opening the door then and promptly struck the dresser that Will had moved in front of it.  He’d emptied the drawers of their contents and replaced them with all the books that had been on his shelves, resulting in a very heavy piece of furniture and an effective barricade.  Hannibal shifted his gaze about until he spotted what was blocking the way. “Well, this is unexpected. Why have you barricaded the door, Will?”

 

Will sat up and moved to where Hannibal could see him.  “You said I could arrange my room the way I wanted it. This is how I wanted it.”

 

Hannibal paused.  “I see. So, you wished to barricade yourself in your room?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Another pause.  “Why?”

 

“Because I wanted to.”

 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

 

“No.”

 

Hannibal tried to push against the door and thus push the dresser away, but it didn’t shift at all.  He looked at Will through the tiny gap in the doorway and sighed. “All right, Will. When you’re ready, move the dresser and come downstairs.  There will be a meal waiting for you.”

 

So saying, Hannibal left.  Will didn’t move. Later, he could hear the sounds of silverware and china as Hannibal ate his own dinner and the same sounds and water running as he cleaned up.  Later, Hannibal was at the door again. “Will?”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s time for bed.”

 

“So go to bed.”

 

Hannibal paused as if he were surprised.  “I’m letting you know that it’s time for bed.  Don’t you want me to read to you?”

 

“No.”

 

Another pause.  “It was always my impression that you enjoyed being read to.  Don’t you want to find out what happens to Lucy?”

 

“Go away.”

 

Silence, and then the sound of departing footsteps.  Hannibal knocked on his door again in the morning, but Will didn’t bother answering.  He knocked again at mid-day and was ignored. He knocked again in the evening, but Will snapped at him to leave him alone.  When he knocked again at bedtime, his voice sounded a bit...concerned. 

 

“Will, really, this is no way to behave.  All you’re doing is hurting yourself. Why don’t you move the dresser and we can talk about this?”

 

Will threw a shoe at the door and he was sure that Hannibal jumped.  “GO AWAY!”

 

Hannibal left.

 

The days started to merge together after that.  Will slept as much as he could, drinking from the bathroom sink when he was thirsty or when he wanted his stomach to stop growling, but he wasn’t going to give in, no matter how bad he felt.  Hannibal was his captor and he didn’t want to see or hear him or have anything to do with him, ever again.

 

A knock...he’d lost count of the days.  What did he want now?

 

“Will, I’m begging you.  Please, please tell me what you want so you’ll stop doing this to yourself.”

 

“I don’t want to be Warren Holland anymore,” Will said from his bed.  He felt odd and light-headed and a bit detached from everything. 

 

“You’re not Warren Holland; you’re Will Graham,” Hannibal said.

 

“You made me into Warren when you brought me here.”

 

Now Hannibal sounded frightened.  “Will, you are no one but yourself; I promise.  I want you to stop this. Please open the door so I can bring you something to eat.”

 

“I’ll only open the door if you give your word that you’ll take me home and that you’ll never, ever bother me again.”

 

A long pause this time.  “I can’t do that, Will.”

 

“Looks like I’m gonna die in here, then.”

 

“Will, you are  _ not _ going to die,” Hannibal said, sounding frantic.

 

Will laughed weakly.  “Sure I am. Just a matter of when, doctor.”

 

He didn’t hear if Hannibal knocked again.  He did hear thumping at one point, but he didn’t care.  He was too tired to care. He fell asleep and was jerked out of a dream of nothing but grayness when a loud crash startled him awake.  Cold air flooded the room and Will opened his eyes and turned his head in time to see Hannibal crawling in through a broken window. He was at Will’s side in a moment, checking his pulse.

 

Will blinked, still feeling detached.  “You broke the window?”

 

“It was all I could think to do,” Hannibal answered, laying a hand on his forehead.  “I couldn’t get the latch unfastened.”

 

“You’re gonna have to get some plastic to cover it.”

 

Hannibal went to the dresser and gave it an almighty shove.  “I am not concerned about the window at this moment, Will.” So saying, he picked Will up from the bed and carried him downstairs.  

 

“Put me back on my bed,” Will protested feebly.

 

“Just stay quiet,” Hannibal ordered softly.  “You’re not well, Will.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

Hannibal settled him on the chaise lounge in his office, which had been made up into a bed.  Once Will was ensconced in the pillows and wrapped in the blanket, Hannibal lifted his hand and began tapping on the back of it to raise a vein.  In short order he had Will hooked up to an IV and velcro restraints on Will’s hands. “What’re those for?”

 

“They’re to keep you where you are,” Hannibal told him.  “I’ll be right back.”

 

“So, I lock myself in my room and you do one better and tie me up,” Will sighed.  “Nice going, doc.”

 

Hannibal left and returned, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup on it, some crackers, and some electrolyte solution.

 

“I’m not eating that,” Will said in frustration.

 

“Your hands are restrained, and if necessary, I’ll hold your head still so you can eat what I give you,” Hannibal said, suddenly sounding like his old self.  “You’re not going to win this particular fight, Will.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

A hand grasped his chin and forced it up so he was looking Hannibal in the eye.  “Will, this behavior ends now. You will not swear at me. You will not refuse to eat.  You will not disobey me. You will allow me to care for you and you will not fight me about anything.  If you do give me any trouble, I cannot guarantee that the end of my patience won’t be reached. Do you understand?”

 

Will was stuck, literally.  He dropped his eyes and nodded.

 

Hannibal released his chin.  “All right, then. Let’s start with the soup.”

 

Spoonful by spoonful, tiny piece of cracker by tiny piece of cracker, and sip by sip, Hannibal fed him almost everything on the tray.  Will tried to tell himself that there was no shame in giving in when you couldn’t fight anymore, but he still felt like he’d lost...something.

 

Hannibal checked the level in the IV and returned to his chair next to Will’s bed on the chaise.  “I would like you to talk to me, Will.”

 

Will shrugged.  “There’s nothing I want to say.”

 

Hannibal pursed his lips.  “Are you certain?”

 

Will decided to cut through Hannibal’s bush-beating.  “What is it you expect me to say? What, I’m gonna talk and then you’ll talk and then we’ll come to some sort of new understanding?  I don’t want to be here anymore. I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life, and believe me, that’s quite a list, given my line of work.  I don’t want you to take care of me; I want to go home and I never want to see you again.”

 

Hannibal listened to all of Will’s hatred impassively, his hands folded on his knee.  “I’ve known all along that you’re outraged at my infringement on your liberty, but this new vehemence must have a cause.  Can you tell me what that is?”

 

Will blinked and his mind put a dozen little tidbits together.  “Oh, my God. You’re a shrink.”

 

“A psychiatrist, yes.”

 

“I hate psychiatrists.”

 

“You’ve made that evident,” Hannibal said dryly.  “Even if you hate psychiatrists as a rule, I’m sure you can learn to like at least one.  What is it that made you so upset that you decided to build a fort around yourself?”

 

“You built a fort around me first,” Will snapped.

 

“How so?”  

 

“Those papers, the backstory, the people who are supposed to be my parents…”  He stopped and tried to compose himself. “Did you make Will Graham disappear and replace him with Warren Holland?”

 

Instead of answering, Hannibal went to his desk and pulled out a tablet.  He switched it on and brought up a website. “Look.”

 

Will looked.  There was his picture on a news site and a headline, Manhunt for Missing Man.  The article stated that the FBI and law enforcement were still searching for Will Graham, missing since his kidnapping.

 

“Will Graham has not disappeared simply because I brought him here.  Warren Holland is nothing more than a mask to allay others’ suspicions,” Hannibal told him, turning off the tablet once Will had finished the article.  “You can always take a mask off.”

 

Will leaned back into the pillows.  “So what now?”

 

“You need a bath, Will, and some fresh clothes, and then you’re going to rest.  I know for a fact that you’re tired.”

 

“I don’t want to take a bath.”

 

“Yes, you do,” Hannibal said, disconnecting the IV.  “It won’t take long.”

 

Will didn’t have the strength to fight him as Hannibal picked him up and carried him upstairs not to his room, but to a bathroom down the hall from Hannibal’s room.  There, Hannibal filled the tub with hot water, added some bath salts, and helped Will undress and get into the tub. Will tried protesting, but he lacked the strength to pull away.  Hannibal helped him wash his hair and rinse it, then helped him wash practically everywhere else before helping him rinse off and leave the tub. Hannibal wrapped him in towels and dried him while Will only made a cursory effort at drying himself off.  Hannibal was right; he was tired.

 

Hannibal brought fresh pajamas for him, wrapped him up in his robe and slippers, and carried him into his room.

 

Into Hannibal’s room.

 

“What are we doing in here?”

 

“You won’t be able to sleep in your room tonight since the window’s broken, and this is the only other bedroom with a lock on the door.  I am willing to forego my bed tonight to be sure that you’re comfortable.” He laid Will down on the bed and tucked him under the blankets, a tiny whiff of Hannibal’s cologne reaching Will’s nose as he was tucked in.

 

“Where are you going to sleep?”

 

“I’ll manage; don’t you worry.  Now, I’m going to get you something to drink and then I’ll be up to read to you.  You’re not to leave this bed, understand?”

 

Will nodded and burrowed into the pillow behind his head.  He did not feel like moving.

 

Hannibal brought him something like a nutritional shake and he waited patiently while Will drank it.  At least it was chocolate flavored. Once he’d finished it Hannibal took the glass from him and sat down in a chair near the bed.  “Would you like me to read to you?”

 

Too tired to think, Will nodded.  He fell asleep to the sound of Hannibal’s voice yet again.  The most maddening thing was that some bit of knowledge he’d gleaned kept flitting around in his head at the edge of his memory, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.


	10. Chapter 10

He woke the following morning and did not want to budge from where he was.  He’d slept so well that he couldn’t believe how good he felt. He needed to sleep that way every night of his life!  He stretched, arching his back a bit, and dropped back into the pillows with a sigh. He wished he could have more mornings where he woke up feeling this rested.

 

A knock on the door brought him out of his happy morning thoughts, and the door opened to reveal Hannibal.  He smiled as soon as he saw that Will was awake. “Good morning, Will. Did you sleep well?”

 

Will nodded.  Why couldn’t he have had a little bit longer to himself?  His good mood was gone.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“No.”

 

Hannibal looked at the tray he held and gave a rueful smile.  “Would you be willing to try just a bit? You do need to eat.”

 

Will shrugged, sitting up against the pillows.  He could smell something sweet and his stomach let him know that he yes, he did want what was on that tray, but he was in no mood to indulge his stomach.

 

Hannibal carried the tray over to him and placed it across his lap.  On the tray there was a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, a sausage patty, and two slices of toast with butter and cinnamon-sugar.  Also on the tray was a glass of milk. Hannibal handed him a napkin to lay over the blankets and took a seat in the chair nearest the bed.  

 

“You’re going to watch me eat?” Will asked.  

 

“As your physician, it’s my duty to make sure that you receive adequate nutrition.  I have a strong feeling that if I left you wouldn’t eat anything, so I am making sure.  If you don’t feel up to feeding yourself, I can either feed you, or I can get you a nutritional shake to drink, but you are going to take in some nourishment, Will.  You can take as long as you need to.”

 

Will stared at the food and wished it would disappear.  He picked up the spoon and poked it into the oatmeal, but he didn’t raise it to his mouth.  Instead, he picked up the glass of milk, but he set it down before he drank any of it. “I don’t want to eat.”

 

Hannibal nodded.  “Can you tell me why?”

 

Will shrugged again.  “Dunno. I just don’t.”

 

Hannibal leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.  “Why don’t we play a game?”

 

Of all things he’d expected, that had not been one of them.  “A game?”

 

“Yes.  You may ask me questions--any questions you like, and I’ll answer them truthfully, but only if you take a bite of food and swallow it.  You may ask your question and take a bite of food, and then I’ll give you the answer. If you ask it but you don’t take a bite, then I don’t have to answer.”

 

“Why would I play a game like that?” Will demanded, poking at the oatmeal.  

 

“I thought you wanted more information on me, Will,” Hannibal answered.  “Isn’t that one of the things you teach your students about kidnappings? Knowledge is power?  The more a victim knows about his kidnapper, the more power he has in his predicament.”

 

Will thought about it.  “How did you know about that lecture?”

 

Hannibal looked pointedly at the tray and waited.

 

Will glared at him, but Hannibal sat calmly in his chair, hands folded in his lap, waiting.  Finally Will took a spoonful of the oatmeal and began chewing. He had to pause as the taste hit him since it was delicious--and completely unexpected.  Hannibal had cooked the oats in milk, rather than water to make the cereal richer, and he’d added some cream and brown sugar along with the raisins. It tasted like raisin bread in a bowl!  “Mmm. Okay. How did you know about that lecture?”

 

“I was there.”

 

Will thought back to it.  “No, you weren’t.”

 

“I was up in the top tier, behind some very tall students.  You’re a good speaker, Will.”

 

“Mmph.”  Will didn’t want to accept the compliment, but he’d worried before about his speaking abilities and he was glad to hear them praised.

 

“Was that your only question?”

 

Will thought about it.  If he played this game, then he’d have to eat, which he really didn’t want to do.  If he did play it, then he had a chance to actually learn a great deal about Hannibal.  He was ready to ask a question, and then a very, very awful but still wonderful idea occurred to him:  He could ask Hannibal embarrassing questions, and Hannibal would have to answer them.

 

He nearly started laughing and Hannibal noticed the change in his expression.  “And just what is going through your mind right now, Will?”

 

Will fought down a smile.  “I’m asking the questions. What do you find most difficult to do?”  He took another bite of oatmeal and waited.

 

Hannibal blinked double-time and shifted in his chair.  “What do I find most difficult to do?” It was clear he’d been taken by surprise.  “Aaah…” He paused and thought. “You  _ would _ start with a difficult question, Will.”

 

Will put the spoon down and crossed his arms, fastening his gaze on Hannibal.  “And I’m waiting for the answer.”

 

Hannibal leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees, meshing his fingers together.  “I would have to say...control. I don’t like to not have control of things in my life.”

 

Will almost snorted; he wasn’t surprised in the least.  It also meant that Hannibal would have a hard time giving up control over other things, such as Will and his circumstances.  This was going to be interesting. “Why do you think that is?” Two could play at the psychiatrist game. He took a bite of toast and waited.

 

For a moment, Hannibal looked somewhat alarmed.  “Why do I feel as if I’ve just been placed on my couch?  Truthfully, most likely it’s because of my early years.”

 

“What happened during your early years?”  Will took another bite of toast. 

 

Hannibal did not look comfortable at all.  “I lost both my parents, and then a short while later, my sister to...fiends.  Soldiers. My parents died due to the war first, and then later the soldiers...killed my sister.”

 

Will had to put down the toast.  The game was no longer fun. “I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal shrugged.

 

“Why were they killing people?”

 

Hannibal looked at the tray.  “I won’t answer until you’ve taken a bite of food, Will.”

 

Will looked at the tray and picked up his spoon.  “I’m starting to think that you’re as stubborn as I am.”

 

“You would not be wrong,” Hannibal said as Will took a spoonful of oatmeal.  “War never makes sense, Will, and it makes even less sense to a child. I never understood what had happened until years later, and even then, I didn’t have a clear understanding.  I still don’t. I know the political and economic objectives the nations involved were trying to accomplish, but I’ve never understood why they went about attaining them in such a barbaric manner.  As for why those soldiers killed, they were told they could shoot people and there was no one there willing or able to stop them from doing what they did to my sister.”

 

“Why didn’t they kill you?”  Will cut a piece of sausage and ate it.

 

“I’ve often wondered about that.  At the time I’d begged them to kill me, too.  I wasn’t able to bear the thought of living without the people I loved, but for some reason, they left me alive.  I wandered through the forests around my family home until soldiers on the opposite side found me and took me to a hospital.  I was deeply in shock and mute for some time and I was sent to an orphanage--it had been set up by the government in my father’s house, so I was an orphan living in my own home.”

 

Will didn’t know what to think.  That sounded absolutely awful. “What happened after that?”  He started on the next piece of toast. 

 

“A few years later, my uncle Robert and his wife came from Paris to look for me, and they took me home with them.  My uncle was a distant man, but his wife was different. She was kind to me, gave me her attention, and taught me. She came from a samurai family in Japan and she taught me the same way and the same things she’d been taught--horsemanship, archery, kendo, self-defense, literature, military strategy, and history.  When my uncle died a few years later, she and I moved to a flat and I attended a boarding school.”

 

“And after that?”  Will took another bite of toast.

 

“I began medical school.”

 

Will took a sip of the milk and had to pause at the taste.  “What did you do to this milk?”

 

“Malt powder, vanilla, and sugar.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Calories, Will.  Starvation can do a lot of damage to the body and you had precious little reserves since you did not eat regularly before I brought you here.  The body requires calories to reverse the damage. Carbohydrates, fats, and sweets are some of the quickest ways to ensure you receive them.”

 

Will considered his meal again with the new knowledge and nodded.  He took another bite of oatmeal. “Okay. What brought you to the States?”

 

“I won an internship at Johns Hopkins and I was offered a position upon completing it.  Later, I opened my psychiatry practice. I found the mind more of a challenge to heal than the body.”

 

Will took another sip of the milk.  It tasted a bit like a...well, sort of like a milkshake.  “Won’t your patients miss you if you’re gone too long?”

 

“I know one will, but he has trouble with boundaries,” Hannibal said calmly.  “I am thinking of referring him to someone else, really. If I cannot help him, then it would be a mistake to keep seeing him.  That, and he has started to seek me out outside of my office and outside of office hours.”

 

That caught Will’s interest.  “Sounds like you may have an incipient problem, there.  Do you think he could be a danger to you?”

 

Hannibal looked pointedly at the tray in front of Will and waited.

 

Will took another bite of oatmeal.

 

“Only if his neuroticism evolves into obsession, and only if that obsession becomes prone to violence,” Hannibal said, sounding as if he were discussing something like grocery shopping.  “As of yet, there is no cause for concern.”

 

The game continued, with Will asking questions and only receiving answers once he’d taken a bite of food.  Will asked as many questions as he could about Hannibal himself so he could start building a psychological profile that could help him predict Hannibal’s future actions.  Like Hannibal had reminded him and Will himself had told his students, knowledge was power.

 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Hannibal said as soon as Will finished the last sip of milk.  “You are right that I’ve basically stolen your life.”

 

Will nearly dropped the glass.  This was unheard-of. It was the first time Will had ever heard an intimacy-seeking stalker admit to something like that.

 

“What I would like to do is propose a truce.”

 

Will looked at him, not understanding.  “A truce?”

 

Hannibal nodded.  “Yes. You’ve made yourself ill by such a long fast and you do need caring for.  I understand that my caring for you is the last thing you want, but as the situation stands, I’m the only option you have.  I think it would be easier on both of us if you agreed to accept that care without a battle over every little thing. If you agree to accept the care I give you without fighting me every moment of every day, then I will make things as pleasant for you as I can.”

 

Will thought about it.  “You’ve already done worlds more than most kidnappers do,” he pointed out.  “You provided me with a nice room, things to do, entertainment, delicious meals...I don’t see how you can improve on that.”

 

Hannibal smiled.  “Nice to see that you’ve noticed my efforts.  No, what I will do will be things that I’ve not done yet.  Part of helping you recover means giving you things to spark your interest and giving you things to look forward to.  If you eat all your meals today and rest, then I will take you on a day trip tomorrow.”

 

“A day trip where?”

 

“That’s a surprise,” Hannibal told him.  “However, I think you’ll like it. Will you agree?”

 

“I’d like to think about it for a little bit, first,” Will said, not willing to be bound to something so quickly.  “How long will this being cared for thing last?”

 

“Until New Year’s Day,” Hannibal said firmly.  “It’s just a week until Christmas, now, so it will be a sufficient span of time to be sure you’ve done no permanent damage to yourself.  Also, I enjoy Christmas, and I would like to help you enjoy your Christmas here as much as you can. Neither of us, I feel, can do that if we’re at loggerheads, Will.”

 

Will thought about it.  “And what is a Hannibal Lecter Christmas like?”

 

Hannibal gave another smile.  “Decorations, baking treats, wrapping gifts, playing games, fires in the fireplace, and so on.  I’ve already gone about securing your biggest gift and I think you will like it.”

 

Will shrugged.  “I don’t know how I feel about you getting me Christmas gifts.”

 

“I would like it if you could think of it as not your kidnapper getting you gifts, but a friend getting you gifts, instead.  Would you be willing to agree to being friends until New Year’s, Will?”

 

This was a huge step.  This was Will showing Hannibal that he was willing to accept him in some small measure.  “I’d like it if I could consider it, first, before I commit to anything. Would that be all right?”

 

“More than all right,” Hannibal promised him.  “Are you thirsty?”

 

“After all that sweet stuff, yeah,” Will admitted.  

 

“I’ll get you some drinking water.  Now, would you like to stay up here in bed, or would you like to be somewhere downstairs?”

 

“Downstairs.”  He didn’t want Hannibal to get used to seeing him in his bed.

 

“Let’s get you settled for the morning, then.”

 

Twenty minutes later and Will was settled on the couch, being waited on hand and foot yet again by Hannibal.  He watched television most of the morning and at last Hannibal brought lunch to him. He’d been doing a lot of thinking during the morning and really, there was only one thing he could do.  He might be playing right into Hannibal’s hands, but he didn’t have much choice. What Hannibal had told him that morning was true: he wasn’t well, and he needed to get better. “Would you like my answer?” Will said as Hannibal placed the tray across his knees.  

 

“If you’re ready to give it.”

 

“I am, and yes,” Will said.  “You’re right; I’m still...worn out, I guess.  I need someone watching after me until I’m back on my feet.  That, and I’m tired of feeling like I have to fight every minute of every day.  I’d like to stop fighting, if just for a little while.” He didn’t realize what he was saying until after the words had left his mouth and he wondered if he’d given too much away.

 

“I can understand that,” Hannibal said, sounding as if he truly understood.  “So, friends until New Years’?”

 

“Friends,” Will agreed, shaking Hannibal’s hand once he held it out.

 

“Would you like to continue our game from this morning?” Hannibal offered, taking a seat.

 

“I’m going to eat; you don’t have to watch me.”

 

“It’s more for my peace of mind, Will,” Hannibal said.  “When you locked yourself in your room, you were at a healthy weight and your color was good.  When I broke the window to get to you, you were almost emaciated and whiter than your sheets. It frightened me a great deal how quickly you’d lost your health.”

 

“How long was I in my room?”

 

“Four days.  I kept telling myself that you would come out when you were ready, but that was just foolishness on my part.  I should have broken in on the second day. I suppose, in my arrogance, I never realized just how far you would carry the battle.”

 

Will felt a tiny ghost of a smile touch his face.  “So you’re saying I’m stubborn?”

 

“Very.”

 

Will turned his attention to his lunch then, taking a bite of… “What kind of soup is this?”

 

“Creamy chicken noodle, made with carrots, celery, onions, garlic, and parsley, as well as very finely chopped spinach,” Hannibal said.  “You also have a grilled cheese sandwich and a strawberry bread pudding for dessert.”

 

“It’s delicious,” Will said, taking another bite.  “So, ready for a question?”

 

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

“When you were little, what did you want to be?”

 

The question amused Hannibal and he chuckled.  “Would you believe me if I said a king?”

 

“A king?”

 

“Lithuania had nobility when I was young, and our family was a branch on the royal family tree.  When I was small, I found myself thinking about all the fun things a king could do when he took the throne, and there would be no one to tell him he couldn’t.  To the child I was then, I could stay up as late as I wanted, eat all the things my nurse told me I couldn’t have, and spend my entire day outside instead of at lessons.  It wasn’t until I was older that I realized just what the job entailed, so I changed my mind.”

 

“What did you want to be after that?”  Will crunched into the grilled cheese and almost sighed at the taste and ooey-gooey goodness.  Starving yourself for several days wasn’t good for your health in the slightest, but it sure did wonders in your appreciation of food.

 

“Just like my father, really.  I saw the good work he did on behalf of the people in our area, so I wanted to be like him.”

 

“Mm-hmm.  Most boys who look up to their fathers want to be like them,” Will said, remembering how much he’d wanted to be like his father.  “You said your family was a branch on the royal family tree? So, you’re royalty?”

 

Hannibal looked at Will’s tray, so Will took a sip from the glass of..oh.  Lemon-lime soda. Interesting.

 

“Nobility,” Hannibal clarified.  “My father was a count.”

 

“Does Lithuania still have nobility?

 

“There are still some individuals with titles, but most of them no longer have their estates since the communist government confiscated them to use them for the benefit of the people, like with my father’s house becoming an orphanage.  Most of those with titles now live as private citizens, but a good number have emigrated to other nations.”

 

“Like you.”

 

“Yes.  Like me.”

 

Will took another spoonful of soup.  “Do you think you’ll ever go back to Lithuania?”

 

“Most likely not,” Hannibal confessed.  “There are a good many painful memories there for me and I find the less reminders of them I have, the better I feel.  Occasionally I’ll hear from an old retainer of my aunt’s or from the family of an old servant of my father’s, but I’ve not traveled back to Lithuania aside from once or twice when I was still in my teens and early twenties.”

 

Will asked other questions, giving Hannibal a break from heavy memories.  Favorite foods, favorite pastimes, and favorite books. Once Will got him on the subject of books, Hannibal did most of the talking and Will just ate his meal and listened.  When Hannibal realized that they’d both abandoned the game just so he could talk, he gave Will a thankful smile. “You’re a very good listener, Will.”

 

“I have my moments.”

 

Will did spend the rest of the day resting and he ate the snacks Hannibal brought him and his dinner that night with little trouble.  The window in his room had been repaired at some point that day, so Will went to bed in his room that night after hearing the end of Lucy’s adventures in Villette.

 

“That’s how it ends?” Will said when Hannibal closed the book.

 

“Yes,” Hannibal said, sounding regretful.  “Charlotte Bronte wished to write a more definite ending, but her publisher felt that a vaguer conclusion would sell better, so she altered it.  I often wonder what that other ending was like.”

 

“It sucks that we’ll never know.”

 

Hannibal shrugged.  “Things are the way there, I suppose.  Ready for our trip tomorrow?”

 

Will shifted in his pillows, sitting up a bit.  “Where are we going?”

 

“Part of the fun of a surprise is not knowing what it is,” Hannibal told him.  “We’ll go after breakfast, Will.”

 

The next day found them in the car, with Will in his persona of Warren Holland once again, and Hannibal behind the wheel of the Bentley.  Will had protested at being forced to put on his “mask,” but he really, really wanted to get out of the house. He’d agreed to be “friends” with Hannibal until New Year’s, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a chance someone could recognize him if he was out and about--there was nothing Hannibal could do about  _ that _ if it happened, so he put up with it.

 

They drove an hour and a half in the opposite direction they’d taken to reach town and at last Hannibal turned onto a gravel drive and rolled up to a gate.  He rolled down the window, pressed an intercom button, and waited. A loud click told them someone was listening. 

 

“It’s me, and I have a guest with me.”

 

A loud buzz and the gate opened.  Hannibal rolled the window back up and drove up the driveway to a brick Italianate home. 

 

Will stared.  This place was bigger than plenty of the Garden District mansions in New Orleans.  “Woah. Who lives here?”

 

“No one right now,” Hannibal told him, helping him out of the car and pulling a small duffle bag out of the back seat.  “I occasionally rent it out to people desiring a flashy home to impress potential clients, but it’s been closed for the past few years due to renovations.  There are certain areas of the house, however, that are perfect for our purposes today.”

 

“You spoke to someone on the intercom,” Will reminded him.  “Who was it?”

 

“My aunt’s retainer.  She does favors for me now and then, and since she was free, she was happy to be here to get this place ready for us.  You can take off your glasses if you wish, Will. There is no one here but us.”

 

What followed was a surreal day.  Hannibal showed him around the house and surprised him with lunch cooked over a fire in the fireplace in the sunny front drawing room.  It was a lot of fun to cook bratwursts and toast sourdough rolls over the flames and chat. For once, Hannibal did not seem worried about Will’s nutrition and Will took full advantage of that to eat just what he wanted until he was full.  Allowing him to have a meal without vegetables had been one of the things he’d never expected from Hannibal. 

 

After lunch, Hannibal bundled him up in a coat and slim black boots and gloves and took him out the back door and down a short path.  At the end of the path was a paddock and in the paddock two horses were cantering about, enjoying the brisk air and sunshine. “Have you ever ridden before, Will?”

 

“Um...once.  I was on a case and the only way to get to the crime scene was by horseback,” Will said, feeling a great deal of trepidation.  “It didn’t go well.”

 

“I’m sure this will be a different experience,” Hannibal promised.  “I’ll show you what to do, and then we’ll take them out, all right?”

 

Following Hannibal’s instructions, Will helped him halter and lead the horses into the stable, where they were cross-tied for grooming and tacking.  Hannibal checked that Will had done everything correctly and led both of the horses out of the stable. He tied one to a ring in the paddock fence and tied another to a hitching post.  “I’ll help you into the saddle, Will,” he said, once he was certain the horse was secure. “Put your left foot into the stirrup, your right foot in my hands, and swing your right leg over when I push up on your foot.  Don’t try to jump from my hands; you’ll be able to reach your saddle without a problem. On three.”

 

Will did as he was instructed and he was sitting on a horse for the second time in his life.  Hannibal released the horse from the hitching post, released his own horse, and swung up into the saddle with all the grace of...well, something graceful and used to riding horses.  Will sat in the saddle like a sack of wet cement, certain he was going to fall off.

 

“Relax,” Hannibal said, nudging his horse forward to stand beside Will’s.  “If you sit in the saddle so tensely, you’ll lose your balance and fall. Relax all the muscles you have tensed right now and your seat will feel much more natural.  Give it a try.”

 

Will tried it.  It did feel better, but he was still nervous.  

 

“These horses are trained to walk together, Will,” Hannibal said, correcting Will’s hold on the reins.  “Yours will follow mine. Give with one hand and take with the other, same with your knees and heels if you need to guide your horse.  We won’t go fast until we’re sure you know what you’re doing, all right?”

 

“Okay.”  Will looked down at the ground.  “What if he bolts or something? How do I get down without getting killed?”

 

“Take both feet out of your stirrups, swing your right leg over, and slide down the side of the horse on your right hip while pushing off with your hands to make sure you land clear of the horse,” Hannibal instructed.  “Although I don’t think she’s going to bolt; she’s a very calm little thing. Ready?”

 

He wanted to say no, but he nodded, and Hannibal led the way.  Hannibal’s horse was gray and the darn thing looked aristocratic, while Will’s chestnut looked like the epitome of gentleness.  He could see Hannibal’s back and the horse’s back and he could see that Hannibal was at ease in the saddle, moving with his horse with no effort.  Will tried to mirror his movements to match Hannibal’s and soon riding began to feel natural.

 

Hannibal turned in his saddle to check on him.  “How are you doing, Will?”

 

“Good, I think,” he answered, his horse still following Hannibal’s.  “I don’t feel like I’m going to fall.”

 

Hannibal smiled.  “How about a trot?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

Despite being scared out of his wits when they started to trot and then to canter, Will managed to stay in the saddle, following Hannibal’s instructions on how to ride with each gait.  The best part, in Will’s mind, was when Hannibal led him to a wide-open part of the grounds and invited him to canter on his own.

 

“Just put fear aside,” Hannibal counseled him.  “She wants to run, so let her and go along for the ride.  I’ll be watching, so nothing bad will happen. Go ahead.”

 

Will gave his horse his knee and she cantered off, delighting in the chance to stretch her legs.  Will put his heels down, moved his hips in time with the horse, and soon it felt as if he were flying.  By the time Hannibal called to him to slow down and let his horse breathe, Will was grinning. “This is great!”

 

“I knew you would like it,” Hannibal said, trotting up to join Will.  “I think they’ve both had enough for today, don’t you think?”

 

Listening to his horse breathing, Will nodded, and they turned back toward the stable.  They got their horses untacked, groomed, and fed and watered them, and they headed back to the house.  

 

“How do your legs feel, Will?”

 

“Sore,” Will admitted.  “I didn’t even know I had muscles in those places.”

 

“I’ll show you some stretches to do to help with that,” Hannibal promised him.  “For right now, though, I have a better remedy.”

 

Hannibal led him into the house and down some stairs into what Will thought was the basement.  Instead, it was a hot and humid room filled with plants and water. The smell of chlorine told Will what it was.  “A swimming pool?”

 

“Part of the renovations was adding this room in what used to be an oversized wine cellar.  I felt the plants and warm water would make a visitor feel as if they were in a tropical paradise.  There’s a heated swimming pool, as well as a massaging hot tub and rainforest shower room,” Hannibal said, sounding thankful for the miracles of modern plumbing.  “You’re in for a treat, Will.” He motioned at an open door with his chin. “There’s a pair of swimming trunks in the changing room for you, as well as a robe and a towel.  Go ahead and get changed and we’ll take some time to enjoy the water.” 

 

The aches in his legs decided him, and Will did as Hannibal said.  Hannibal had changed as well and showed him the rainforest shower first, where water cascaded down from the ceiling and then at them from all sides.  It felt almost like an all-over massage and Will left the shower after ten minutes, looking like a drowned rat but smiling.

 

“Like it?” Hannibal asked, his smile matching Will’s.

 

Will nodded.  “It’s awesome.  I’m amazed that there isn’t one in every bathroom in America.  People don’t know what they’re missing!” 

 

Hannibal chuckled and led the way to the pool.  There were ladders, but one side of the pool was a sloped entrance, allowing someone to walk into the water, and this was what Will did.  The water was hot enough to be bath water and it felt incredible on his sore muscles. Since it had been ages since he’d been able to lay flat in a tub, Will took full advantage of the fact that he could float in the water and not bump into anything.  After close to twenty minutes swimming, Hannibal insisted they change to the hot tub, and the jets switched on once they were settled. Immediately they were surrounded with effervescent water and massaging jets and Will felt the last bit of tension in his body leave.  “Oh, this is great. I’d be happy to spend the rest of the night right here.”

 

“That’s not the best idea, Will, but I can fully understand the temptation.  It’s a very attractive idea to cook yourself like a lobster since it feels so nice.”

 

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use,” Will said, enjoying the feeling of the jets against his back.  “Hedonistic might be better.”

 

“You may be right.”

 

Hannibal insisted they get out of the hot tub after twenty minutes and Will took a quick rinse in the rainforest shower before heading back to the changing room.  Fresh clothes were waiting for him and he and Hannibal went back upstairs to have a picnic dinner in front of the fireplace. There were plenty of little sandwiches, cakes, and fruit, as well as some sparkling grape juice, and Will found the combination amusing.  “What, no expensive wine, Dr. Lecter?”

 

“Wine is not the best thing for you to have in your condition, Will,” Hannibal said.  “Otherwise, yes, we’d be having some wine with dinner. Did you enjoy today?”

 

Will nodded and sipped at the grape juice.  “It was great. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun or felt so relaxed.  Thank you, Hannibal. I think that today was just what I needed.”

 

“You’re most welcome, Will.  I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it.”

 

They left when it became clear that Will was too tired for anything else, and Hannibal settled him into the car for the drive home.  Will was half-asleep already and he almost missed when Hannibal stood outside the car and spoke to someone. He couldn’t see who it was and they never spoke and he couldn’t understand what Hannibal was saying, but as soon as Hannibal took his seat in the car Will asked him if he would thank that person for helping them have such a wonderful day.  Hannibal smiled, draped his coat over Will, and said he would. The next thing Will knew they were back at Hannibal’s house and Hannibal was helping him get ready for bed. He dropped into his pillows, content with the world for the first time in years, and certainly the first time since waking up in Hannibal’s hands.


	11. Chapter 11

When Will got up the next morning, he saw the first hints of Christmas in the house.  Garlands of holly had been draped in every room and little sprigs of it had been placed on mirrors and picture frames.  Evergreen and pine cone garlands twisted around red velvet ribbons had been placed along the stair and landing railings.  The scent of cinnamon came from baskets of scented pine cones placed in different locations, and best of all, in the sitting room there was a large Christmas tree with its roots wrapped in burlap and placed in a wooden washtub.

 

It didn’t matter that the tree hadn’t been decorated; that room had to be one of the most gorgeous sights Will had ever seen.  It was like a little piece of the forest had decided to pick itself up and march itself into the house.

 

Will headed straight to the dining room for breakfast and got there just as Hannibal was placing their meal on the table.  He looked up and spotted him. “Good morning, Will. You look excited about something.”

 

“When did you do all this decorating?  The house looks wonderful!”

 

“It isn’t finished yet,” Hannibal told him.

 

“The tree?”

 

“The decorating.  There’s the tree to decorate and a few other things to put up around the house. There are some smaller trees in other rooms, but I’ve gotten a good start on things.”

 

“When did you get the trees?”

 

“They were delivered early this morning,” Hannibal said as Will took his seat and placed the napkin on his lap.  “After New Year’s we’ll find a good spot on the grounds for the largest to be planted, as it is the only one that has roots.”

 

“Sounds good.  Is there any chance you’d let me help decorate?”

 

“The more hands, the lighter the work,” Hannibal smiled at him.  “Thank you for the offer, Will; I’d be grateful. I’d intended to have everything done by today.”

 

After a breakfast of sausage patties and waffles with fruit, Hannibal showed Will the supplies he had for decorating and where he intended them to go.  Will spent the morning draping the mantelpieces with red or green velvet scarves trimmed in white and placing bunches of scented candles or decorative evergreen and fruit arrangements on top.  Once that was done, Hannibal handed him a box of metal sleigh bells of various sizes. These were strung across open doorways, along with a sprig of mistletoe added in certain places. Electric candle lamps were placed on each window sill and outside, wreaths were hung on every door.  Wrought-iron shepherds’ crooks had been staked on either side of the driveway and each one was waiting for Will to hang a lantern on it.

 

“This is decorating for a party,” Will said after he’d hung the last lantern and returned to the house to get warm.  “Are you throwing a party, Hannibal?”

 

“New Year’s Eve, I’m afraid,” Hannibal sighed.  “I received a call early this morning with a plea for help from the town mayor.  Their usual venue for the town’s New Year’s Eve party just had a massive water leak when a pipe burst and flooded the entire city hall.  Our home is the only place large enough to accommodate all the people who attend the party. In years past, when this house was in the hands of my former patient, it was often a gathering place for the town until the new city hall was built.  Neither of the churches are big enough, so now they need to fall back on old traditions.”

 

Will felt himself smile.  “So, you’re throwing a party.”

 

Hannibal gave him a rueful look.  “I didn’t feel as if I could say no with good grace; the poor man sounded absolutely desperate.” 

 

“I’d bet,” Will agreed.  “So, what else needs doing?”

 

Hannibal looked at all of the empty boxes scattered around the front hall and consulted a checklist in his hand.  “The trees in the front hall and dining room, the tree on the landing, the tree in the sitting room, the tree in the television room...the poinsettias will be delivered closer to Christmas so they’ll last until the night of the party, so we don’t need to worry about those yet...Oh, yes, the lights in the maze outside...it will look charming once the lights are in place.”

 

Will nearly started laughing.  Hannibal sounded like a distracted event planner!  “What about the catering?” 

 

Hannibal looked up.  “What catering?”

 

“What are you going to feed all these people?”  Will clarified. “You don’t think you can make everything yourself, do you?”

 

“There are standards to be upheld, Will,” Hannibal said, picking his way carefully through the obstacle course of boxes and decorations.

 

“God, you’re a glutton for punishment.”

 

“I’ll call upon my sous-chef.”

 

Will stared at him, certain he was joking, but he could see Hannibal was entirely serious.  “There’s a difference between ambitious and insane, Hannibal.”

 

“Nevertheless, I feel we can do it.  You can help me plan the menu.”

 

Will felt it was time to abandon ship.  “You said there were lights to be put out in the hedges, right?”

 

Hannibal smiled as if he knew exactly why Will was asking.  “Yes. They’re in the box by the door. Make sure each hedge has at least five lights on each side, all right?”

 

The lights were cunning little fairy lights in glass Christmas baubles and Will spent the next hour or so hanging them in the holly bush maze, putting them at different heights and different depths in the leaves.  He had no idea how they would light up since there were no cords, but he figured that wasn’t his problem. He headed back inside to help Hannibal decorate the smaller Christmas trees and after lunch and Will’s rest, they decorated the large tree in the sitting room.  Hannibal had plenty of white straw garlands, white straw ornaments, colored glass ornaments, white tree lights, and scented items to hang on the trees and by supper time, the whole house looked and smelled incredible.

 

Will dropped onto the sofa and took a deep breath while Hannibal gathered up empty boxes.  “Mmm. It smells like Christmas.”

 

Hannibal looked at Will sprawled on the couch, smiled, and nearly tripped over a box.  “That it does. Did you have fun today?”

 

“Mm--hmmm.  Lots of fun.  I can’t wait to see what people think when they see the house.”

 

“Hopefully they like it.”

 

“I’m sure they will,” Will assured him.  “Still, I have to say that I’m still not sure if you shouldn’t hire a caterer for that evening.  How are you going to circulate during the party if you’re seeing to the catering?”

 

“I’ll manage it, Will.  I’ve hosted plenty of parties in my day.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

The days started to trickle away then, and there were times when Hannibal would withdraw to his study to work on something.  One afternoon Will’s curiosity was making it impossible for him to concentrate on the book he was reading, so he crept to Hannibal’s study door and listened.  Inside he could hear paper crinkling, the sound of scissors, and the sound of Scotch tape as it was pulled and cut. Hannibal was wrapping gifts!

 

That was when he realized he had nothing for Hannibal.

 

At first, he asked himself why he was worried about not having a Christmas gift for his kidnapper, but then he remembered that they’d agreed to be friends until New Year’s.  Friends got each other gifts. Ergo, Will had to get him a gift.

 

He headed up to his room to think about it.  If he asked Hannibal to order him something, then Hannibal would know what it was before he even opened it.  No, he couldn’t ask for Hannibal’s help with this. He wandered about his room, wondering what he could do and he was passing his desk when it hit him.  He grinned, pulled out the needed supplies, and started to work. If he kept to the task for a few hours a day, they should be done by Christmas.

* * *

It was like a Christmas fairy had come and enchanted the house.  Each day Will woke to a house covered in decorations and candlelight and scented with everything green, growing, and good.  The conservatory had been decorated for him as a surprise and he spent plenty of time there, enjoying the twinkling lights and the holly bushes and the scented garlands.  Hannibal had added even more decorations to the house while Will slept at night and each morning he got up to see something new: evergreen swags hung over doorways, bright red carpets on the floors in the hallways and down the staircases, and always, there were fires in the fireplaces, making the whole house look warm and inviting.  Each day there was something new and tasty to eat and there was always something sweet to tempt him after dinner every evening. He felt almost as if he were living inside a Christmas fairy tale.

 

Christmas Eve with Hannibal was a great deal of fun.  They’d spent the day before and most of the morning baking treats and then the afternoon preparing twelve different dishes for their Christmas Eve dinner.  When asked, Hannibal said that it was a Lithuanian tradition and that the twelve dishes represented the twelve apostles. “There will be a place set for each of us at the table and an extra place set to remember those who have gone before,” Hannibal explained as they set the table.  Straw had been scattered over the table before the white tablecloth had been put on and he explained that the straw was to remember the Christ Child in the manger and the straw was often used for fortune-telling during dinner. White candles in glass holders lit the table and the dining room and Will couldn’t keep back a sigh at the peaceful scene.  Soon they were sitting down to a dinner of beet soup with mushroom dumplings, herring with potatoes and onion sauce, white potato salad, herring roasted with apples and carrots, small cookies in poppy seed milk, several types of vegetables, two types of bread with honey, and fresh fruit. None of it was something Will had had before, but it was all delicious, and he said so.  

 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,” Hannibal said, pouring Will some more cider.  “What do you say to having your fortune told?”

 

“How would we do that?”

 

“Reach under the cloth and take a piece of straw and pull it out, and I’ll tell you what it means.”

 

Will did as Hannibal suggested and he pulled out a long, thick straw.  Hannibal took it and looked it over. “Long and straight, thick. No bends.  You will have a long, rich life, Will.”

 

Will grinned.  “Okay. Now you pull one and read your fortune.”

 

Hannibal did so and he pulled a straw the same as Will’s and he started chuckling.  “Oh, dear. Looks like we’ll both enjoy long, rich lives.”

 

“I’ve never heard anyone complain about that,” Will said. 

 

“What would you say to a Christmas Eve concert, Will?” Hannibal asked once they’d both chuckled over their fortunes.  “One of the churches is holding a concert this evening at eight-thirty.”

 

Will smiled.  “Sounds great.  I’ll have to go as Warren?”

 

“Of course, if that’s all right?”

 

“I can do that.”  Going to a concert sounded nice.  “Should we go after we clean up?”

 

“We don’t clean up after this meal,” Hannibal said.  “It’s all left for any spirits who come to visit while we’re gone.  We’ve half an hour to get ready, so let’s get started.”

 

In short order Will was transformed into Warren and they headed out, Will looking forward to seeing what the town did for Christmas.  When they got to town Will grinned when he saw the streets lined with lights and a Christmas tree in the plaza. One church was surrounded by cars and Hannibal pulled up to it and parked.  “I’ll help you out of the car and lead you inside,” Hannibal said as he put the parking brake on. “Sit tight.”

 

“I’m going nowhere until you take me,” Will said, feeling agreeable.  It was Christmas and he was just in too good a mood to be stubborn about anything, and besides, he and Hannibal had promised to be friends until New Year’s Day.  

 

Hannibal helped Will out of the car and led him up to the church, where everyone was dressed in their best.  Hannibal led him inside and guided him to a pew and quite a few people glanced their way as they took their seats.  “What’s on the program?” Will asked as Hannibal opened it.

 

“Christmas carols and sacred music,” Hannibal said.  “The first half of the concert will be instrumental and in the second half a choir will sing.  We’re going to hear instrumental arrangements of _O Come All Ye Faithful, Joy to the World, Angels We Have Heard on High, Little Drummer Boy, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, We Three Kings, Do You Hear What I Hear?_ and _I Wonder As I Wander._  The choir will sing arrangements for soprano, alto, tenor, and bass, and they will be singing _Noel Novelet, Ave Maria, Candlelight Carol, Mary, Did You Know?,  Bring a Torch, Jeannette, Isabella, I Saw Three Ships, Pat-a-Pan, Carol of the Bells,_ and they will finish with the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s _Messiah_.  This is an ambitious amount of music for a small-town ensemble, and I know some of the arrangements of these pieces can be demanding.”

 

“Can’t wait,” Will said as the audience hushed and the musicians took their places in the front of the church.  The lights went down and practically the only illumination in the church were the multitudes of candles in wrought iron holders, lending the church an otherworldly glow.

 

What followed was an hour and a half of some of the best music Will had ever heard.  He could tell Hannibal was mesmerized by it and he sat, hardly breathing, his eyes riveted on the musicians and then the choir.  During  _ Mary, Did You Know? _ he actually closed his eyes and tilted his head back to listen, and when he opened his eyes again they were bright with tears.  Will found himself feeling much the same way during most of the carols, memories of other Christmases bright in his mind. Everyone stood for the Hallelujah Chorus and as soon as the last notes died away the audience almost exploded with applause and cheers.  Each of the musicians and choir members looked exhausted, but they were all smiling as they took their bows. Three ovations and then the choir trooped off their risers and the musicians packed up their instruments while Hannibal made a point of going up to the ensemble leader and praising their work.

 

“Why, thank you, Doctor Lecter,” the conductor said, shaking Hannibal’s hand.  “This is the biggest concert of the year for us, so it’s always nice to hear it praised.”

 

“It was exquisite,” Hannibal said with a sigh.  “You must have put in a great deal of work. When do you start rehearsals?”

 

“The end of January each year.  I’m already working on choosing next year’s repertoire.”

 

Hannibal smiled and shook the man’s hand again.  “I hope we’re here next year to hear it.”

 

A cold ball of ice settled in Will’s stomach.  He knew, intellectually, that some kidnapping victims were kept in captivity for years and that that could be the case with him, but he’d rarely allowed himself to think about it; the thought had been too unsettling.  Now, with the reminder, his stomach tied itself in knots and he felt cold all over.

 

“I hope you two will stay for some refreshments,” the conductor said.  “They’re downstairs in the church hall.”

 

“That sounds lovely,” Hannibal said.  “Warren, would you like to go down?”

 

Woodenly, Will nodded.  “I could use something to drink.  Something hot.”

 

“All right, then, let’s get you a hot drink.”

 

Hannibal led Will downstairs and took quite some time to get to the refreshments table since everyone wanted to stop and say hello.  They saw Sally again, as well as the lady from the confectionery shop, and both chatted with them for a few minutes before Hannibal pressed on, taking Will with him.  Shortly Hannibal and Will had helped themselves each to a cherry pastry and a cup of hot chocolate and as Will sipped his he began to feel more like himself.

 

“You were awfully pale before we came downstairs,” Hannibal said, pitching his voice so others couldn’t hear them.  “Are you all right?”

 

“Just felt a little overwhelmed, for some reason,” Will said, biting into the pastry.  “Oh, mmm. Have you tried this? It’s very good.”

 

Looking doubtful, Hannibal took a small bite of his pastry and then he smiled.  “You’re right; it  _ is _ good.  I’ll have to see if I can get the recipe.”  He dabbed at his lips with his napkin and smiled.  “What did you think of the concert, Warren?”

 

“It’s the best Christmas concert I’ve ever been to,” Will said truthfully.  “I can’t believe they practice all year for this!”

 

“Art takes effort.”

 

“I have no doubts about that.”

 

A man bustled up then, practically quivering in his desire to talk to Hannibal.  Hannibal greeted him as “Mayor Marshall, good evening,” and introduced him to Will.  Then, he took a few steps away to talk with the mayor, most likely about the New Year’s Eve party.

 

“Quite a night, huh?” Sally asked, sidling up to Will.  “Enjoying yourself?”

 

“Absolutely,” Will said, holding out his hand so Sally could shake it.  “Do you know who made the cherry tarts? They’re wonderful!”

 

“That would be Mary Ginnis, the sweet shop owner,” Sally told him.  “She always donates lots of goodies every year for parties. You should see her Fourth of July cupcakes!”

 

Will finished off the last of his hot chocolate.  “What are they like?”

 

“Chocolate or vanilla cupcakes with cream filling, colored whipped cream icing in red or blue, with a spun-sugar star on top of each.  The kids are wild to get at those!”

 

Will grinned, imagining a mob of children coming down upon a plate of cupcakes like Nemesis.  “Oh, boy. I bet they don’t last long!”

 

“Not long at all!  You’ve finished everything on your plate and in your cup; is there anything I can get you?”

 

“Something else sweet?” Will said hopefully.  “And something a little stronger than hot chocolate?”  Hannibal was still with the mayor and the latter had pulled out what looked like a few lists and they were going over them.

 

Sally clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump.  “I know just the thing! Hold tight.” She left and was back a few minutes later, with a steaming mug and a small plate with three little...somethings on it.  She put the plate in Will’s hands and he lifted it toward his face to smell it. 

 

“Smells good,” he said, the sweet smell making his mouth water.  “What is this?”

 

“A piece of the croquembouche.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“A tower of cream puffs held together by strings of caramel,” Sally explained.  “It’s delicious; give it a try.” 

 

Will took a bite and felt the cream puff burst as his teeth sank into it.  “Mmmmm. Oh, wow. Where has this been all my life?”

 

“Right here waiting on you.  Something to drink?” Sally offered.

 

Will put his hand out and Sally placed the mug in his.  He couldn’t see the color of what he was drinking due to the dark glasses he had to wear as Warren, but it smelled spicy and hot.  He sipped at it and smiled when he felt the warmth flood his chest. “Sally, did you just give me alcohol?”

 

“Mulled hard cider.  It’s a Christmas tradition around here.”

 

“It’s a good tradition.”  He took another sip and smiled.  “A really good tradition.”

 

“You looked like a man who enjoys a drink now and then,” she said.

 

“You’d be right, but alcohol doesn’t fall into my nutritional plan,” Will said, taking another sip and then blowing on the liquid to cool it down.  “I’d better finish this before Dr. Lecter sees.”

 

Sally suddenly looked concerned.  “Should I not have given you that?”

 

“A little bit won’t hurt me, but Dr. Lecter likes to fuss,” Will said, determined to finish his drink.  “What I want to avoid the most is him fussing at me.”

 

“Drink it quick; here he comes.”

 

Will knocked back most of it, wincing a bit at the burn from so much at once, but he had two sips left once Hannibal joined them.  Nonchalantly, Will finished them off, hoping that Hannibal didn’t become suspicious.

 

“Warren, what are you drinking?”

 

Damn.  “Mulled cider.”

  
  


Hannibal sniffed.  “You mean alcohol. We’ve talked about this.”

 

They had, that was the annoying part.  Hannibal had told him that it wasn’t a good idea for someone who’d been in his condition to have alcohol, so Will wouldn’t be having it until New Year’s.  It was irritating since sometimes Hannibal unbent enough to have wine with dinner or allow Will a finger or two of whiskey in the evenings, but Will knew that Hannibal would be put out if he didn’t follow his suggestion.  “It was just one cup!” Will protested.

 

Hannibal looked from Will to Sally and back again.  “Did this reprobate trick you into procuring alcohol for him, Sally?”

 

She shook her head.  “No, I got it for him, he didn’t ask.  It didn’t occur to me that it would be something he wasn’t allowed.”

 

“And he should have told you,” Hannibal said pointedly.

 

“It’s Christmas,” Will said.  “Shouldn’t everyone be full of goodwill towards others?”

 

“Like you’re full of alcohol?”

 

Sally was starting to look uncomfortable.  

 

“Okay, okay.  You caught me.  I apologize. Sally, sorry for you getting caught in the crossfire.  I should have refused it. Now, Dr. Lecter, can we get back to being friends again?”

 

He’d said the right thing.  “All right, Warren. I’ll let it go, but please remember this if you feel wretched later.”

 

“I.e., if you’re hungover later, don’t come crying to me?  Got it.”

 

The joke made all of them chuckle and they left shortly afterward, Will feeling pleasantly floaty as he walked.  “It was really good, though.”

 

“I don’t doubt that,” Hannibal said as he helped Will into the car and fastened his belt.  “Let’s go home.”

 

“Yeah.  Let’s go home.”

 

Hannibal glanced at him and then away as they pulled out of the church parking lot.  “I do believe you might be a little bit drunk, Will.”

 

“Naaah.”  Will grinned up at the car ceiling.  “Wasn’t that strong.”

 

“Uh-huh.  If you say so.”

 

Will dozed a bit during the drive, feeling warm and cozy.  Hannibal parked the car and helped Will out of it and upstairs.  After Will stumbled for the third time on the stairs, Hannibal advised him to take off the dark glasses.  “Sorry. I was still in Warren mode.”

 

“I dare say you’ll sleep well tonight,” Hannibal said as they reached Will’s room.

 

“Can’t go to sleep,” Will said.  “Don’t wanna miss Santa Claus.” He dropped down on his bed and gave a quiet laugh.  “I could never manage that as a kid. I used to think that Santa Claus would carry knockout gas with him in case there were any kids who were awake.”

 

Hannibal stared at him.  “That’s slightly disturbing, Will.  He’s a magical being; shouldn’t he have used magic instead?”

 

“Magic spells can be broken,” Will pointed out.  “Unless a kid has a gas mask, he’s going down for the count.”

 

“So will you in another few minutes,” Hannibal said.  “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

 

It took a great deal of maneuvering, but Will was at last in his nightclothes and under the covers.  Hannibal tucked him in and turned away, but Will grabbed his arm. “Something you needed, Will?”

 

“Yeah, I need you to wake me up if you hear reindeer on the roof.  Can you do that?”

 

“If I hear reindeer, I promise to wake you.”

 

Will didn’t let go.  “How’re you gonna do that if you’re downstairs?  Sit down. Wait here and listen.”

 

Hannibal sat down on the bed and stretched out next to Will on top of the comforter.  “I’ll listen. Why don’t you close your eyes for a minute?”

 

“Okay.”  Will did as he was told.  He was exhausted and he had that funny sleepy feeling he usually got when he was drunk.  He settled his head in his pillow and drifted on the edge of sleep for a while. He could remember rolling over at one point and ending up on a firm pillow that had a heartbeat, but after that he was too deeply asleep to remember anything else.   
  


* * *

A knock on the door.  “Will?”

 

“Mmmmn?”

 

“It’s time to get up.”

 

“Five minutes.”

 

“All right.  I’ll come back in five minutes.”

 

_Should’ve asked for ten_ , Will thought, cracking open his eyes.  He had a slight headache and he wondered just what was wrong. Then, he remembered that cider and he sat up, wincing at the pain the movement caused in his head.  Hannibal had been right; he shouldn’t have drunk it. Ah, well. Water under the bridge. He got to his feet and into the shower, and then he was heading downstairs, a small package in his hands.  He headed straight for the sitting room and slipped it under the tree amongst all the other gifts and headed for the dining room. “Morning, Hannibal. Merry Christmas.”

 

Hannibal looked up from the table.  “Merry Christmas, Will. How are you feeling after last night?”

 

“Like an idiot, and yes, you had a good point about the alcohol.  What’s for breakfast?”

 

“Cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate.”

 

Will stared at him.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“A breakfast with nothing but sweets?  Who are you and what have you done with Hannibal?”

 

“It’s a special occasion, Will,” Hannibal reminded him.  

 

Will made it through two cinnamon rolls, his appetite returning as soon as he bit into the first one.  Hannibal watched him eat and he was practically vibrating in his chair by the time Will wiped his face with his napkin.  

 

“Time to open gifts,” Hannibal stated, pushing back from the table.  “Come on, Will.”

 

“I know I’ve mentioned this before, but you really didn’t have to get me gifts, Hannibal.”

 

“I wanted to, Will.  Let’s go. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks.”

 

Will chuckled and followed him to the sitting room.  Hannibal turned on some Christmas music, stoked the fire in the fireplace, and settled Will on an ottoman before bringing him his first gift.  Will had to admire the wrapping for a moment before Hannibal’s impatient face led him to rip it apart to reveal...a book on horseback riding. Grinning, Will flipped through the pages.  Did this mean Hannibal would take him riding again?

 

No two gifts had been wrapped in the same paper, and during the next hour Will unwrapped two more books, a blank book formatted for recipes, two new sweaters, an enormous compartment box filled with raw materials for tying flies, a huge box containing a boat motor, a toolbox holding all the tools he’d need, and another box holding spare parts.  He unwrapped a red and gold tin holding chocolate candies and nearly burst out laughing. “So, candy is now on my nutritional plan?”

 

“Candy is a treat,” Hannibal corrected him.  “You can have two pieces a day, but no more than that, all right?”

 

He did laugh then.  “All right. I promise.”  He looked around at the wreckage of wrapping paper and saw that he’d opened all the gifts...except for one.  He located it under the paper and held it out to Hannibal. “Merry Christmas, Hannibal.”

 

Will had never seen anyone look so touched or so pleased in all his life.  “You got me a gift, Will?”

 

Will nodded.  “Yeah. Go ahead and open it.”

 

Hannibal admired the paper that Will had drawn and colored Christmas trees on and was careful opening the gift.  Inside the paper were ten fishing flies. Hannibal stared at them, speechless.

 

“It’s not like I could go out shopping and I didn’t want to ask you to order something and you know what it was,” Will explained.  “I wanted to surprise you. You mentioned fishing once it got warmer, so I figured you could use them.”

 

He didn’t expect the hug, but the next thing he knew, he was in Hannibal’s arms, being held tight.  “Thank you, Will, a thousand times. This is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.”

 

He didn’t know what made him do it, but he brought his arms up and hugged Hannibal back.  “You’re welcome.”

 

Hannibal released him after a moment and smiled at him.  “We still have your biggest gift. It’s outside.”

 

Will blinked.  “Outside? What is it?”

 

“We have to bundle up and go out to see,” Hannibal said lightly, setting his gift carefully on the coffee table.  “Let’s go.”

 

Will followed Hannibal outside, both of them bundled up as warmly as they could be.  It was a clear, bright day but still cold, and snow had fallen during the night. Will stumped along behind Hannibal to the back of the house to where the garden shed was.  Hannibal pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the garden shed door. “Brace yourself.” So saying, he flung open the door.

 

A joyful chorus of barks met Will and then a tidal wave of fur and tongues knocked him over.  It took him a moment to put together what he was seeing and then he was on his feet, struggling to pet all of his dogs at once.  “You brought them….? How…? When did you…?”

 

“It took a great deal of planning,” Hannibal said, pitching his voice to carry over the sounds of happy dogs greeting their human.  “Alana was offered the chance to go to a symposium, so I offered to care for your dogs so she could go. Surprised?”

 

Will burned his face in Winston’s fur and nodded, unable to speak.  When he looked up, his eyes were wet. “Very surprised. Thank you, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal smiled at him.  “You’re very welcome, Will.  Merry Christmas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all my readers! Your comments and kudos are awesome. Here's an extra-long chapter for you!


	12. Chapter 12

From Hannibal Lecter’s Journal:

 

_ It is amazing how much things can change in such a short time.  I took Will into town and on the way back I shared with him the plans I’d put in place to ensure that he would not be able to convince any of the locals that he was a kidnapping victim.  The topic came up because Sheriff O’Donovan had stopped by when he saw me struggling with Will. He was quiet for the rest of the ride back, quiet while he helped me carry in and put away our purchases, and then he went upstairs and barricaded himself in his room. _

 

_ I should have realized he was too quiet, but I suppose, in my arrogance, that I’d thought he’d never do something so desperate.  He was quite prepared to starve to death rather than let me in. When I got him to say just a few things to me, I was able to put it all together and come up with a Will who was protesting in one of the few ways he had available.  He’s swung on me and tried to fight me, he’s attempted to make it over the wall to get away, and I feel this was the last thing he could think of.  _

 

_ Four days of this battle were all I could stand.  I drove to town and purchased a ladder. I put it up against the roof of the porch, climbed it, crossed the porch roof, and attempted to open his window.  Supposedly window latches can be unfastened from the outside using a pocket knife, but I ended up breaking the knife. Instead, I broke the window. Will wasn’t startled by the window breaking, he simply opened his eyes and told me to put him on the bed when I picked him up.  It was shocking how light he’d become--before all this, I’d noted that he was gaining weight and his color was healthy, but he’s lost everything he’s gained and he looks like his own ghost--an unhealthy ghost. I took him downstairs, hooked him up to an IV, and fed him. He tried to tell me that he wasn’t going to eat, but I could feel my patience wearing terribly thin, so I laid down the law, so to speak.  After I did, he allowed me to feed him. I also washed him, helped him dress in fresh clothes, and put him to bed in my room. I feel that the best word to describe him was “apathetic.” He didn’t seem to care what was going to happen to him next. While he slept I arranged to have the window repaired and yes, there were questions about how it had come to be broken from the outside, but I simply laughed and told the glazier that it was long, long story.  He chuckled, repaired the window, and charged a reasonable sum once he’d wished me good luck with the ‘long, long story.’  _

 

_ Thank goodness for small mercies.  When I woke Will the next morning, I played a game with him to get him to eat.  I would answer any question truthfully, but only if he ate a bite of food. If he did not, then I did not have to answer it.  The game quickly became uncomfortable for me since he asked a great many questions about my life--I answered every one and now Will knows most of my history.  I did not go into the details of how my sister died--he was eating, after all--but I could tell he felt badly for me. Despite my being his kidnapper, he still felt empathy with me over a loss.  He is the most remarkable man I’ve ever met. _

 

_ I proposed a truce--he’d made himself ill with the long fast and he needed to be cared for so he could recuperate.  I offered the plan that we agree to be friends until New Year’s. He admitted to being tired of fighting me all the time and agreed to the plan after thinking about it for a morning.  I took him on a day trip the very next day to a house I own nearby. I’d requested that it be ready for us and like the wonder-worker she is, Chiyoh had it ready. I showed Will around the house and we cooked lunch over a fire in the fireplace, which I could tell both surprised and amused him.  After lunch, I took him horseback riding. There was some trepidation showing in his eyes while we got the horses ready and he confessed that his one experience with riding had not been a comfortable one. I gave him instructions on how to better sit in the saddle and move with the horse, and once he relaxed he began to enjoy himself.  Our ride ended when he cantered across an open field by himself, and the smile he wore is a sight I will remember forever.  _

 

_ After we cared for the horses and put the tack away, I took Will back into the house to go swimming.  I could tell he was a bit sore and the hot water would only help with the pain. He loved the rainforest shower and he reveled in the hot water in the pool, but I think he loved the hot tub the most.  When we left the water at last we were both lobster-pink and much less stiff and sore. We had a picnic supper upstairs and Will had such a contented look on his face on the way home that I felt like rejoicing.  I’m sure that if I broke out into hymns he would have thought me mad, so I contented myself with a smile instead. _

 

_ Our preparations for Christmas began.  He helped me decorate the first day, but each night after he’d gone to bed I was sure to do something that he would discover when he woke the next morning.  I wanted a bit of the magic of the season to come to him, so each night I added some new decoration or scented item for him to discover when he woke and I surprised him by giving the conservatory a Yuletide makeover.  Indeed, it looked as if Oberon’s court had decided to celebrate Christmas early in there and I could tell Will was enchanted with it. _

 

_ Christmas Eve Day was lovely--Will and I spent the whole day together, baking treats and making the evening’s dinner.  He looked as if he were enjoying the Christmas traditions I shared with him and he agreed to attend a concert with me that evening.  We transformed him into Warren and we spent the evening listening to some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. For a small-town ensemble, they have a prodigious amount of talent.  I give thanks that they all decided to stay here and perform together, rather than go their separate ways and take their talent elsewhere!  _

 

_ After congratulating the director Will and I joined the rest of the audience downstairs for refreshments.  The cherry tarts were delightful and I was ready to seek out the recipe when Mayor Marshall waylaid me to talk about the New Year’s Eve party I’d agreed to host.  He kept me occupied long enough for Will to have something that he shouldn’t have and I took a somewhat-drunk Will home. Once I got him into his bed he held onto me and asked me to sit with him and listen for reindeer on the roof.  I’ve learned two very pertinent facts about Will: He is a happy drunk when he’s only had one good strong drink and he likes to cuddle. I was beside him on the bed and he rolled over and his head landed on my chest. He cuddled into my chest the same way a baby animal would snuggle into its mother’s fur and my heart was singing the whole time.  I was amazed that it didn’t wake Will, but I was able to hold him while he slept. I was still holding him when I woke early the next morning and I was able to slip away in order to get dinner in the oven and prepare his gifts.  _

 

_ He was slightly hungover when he came downstairs this morning, but that wore off the longer he was up.  I passed the most impatient meal of my life while he ate, and once he’d finished, I took us into the sitting room to open gifts.  He seemed pleased with everything I’d found for him and I received the most wonderful surprise when he presented me with a gift he’d made himself--ten beautiful fishing flies, wrapped in homemade wrapping paper.  It was something beautiful that he’d made himself and he’d made each one for me. It has to be the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.  _

 

_ The day wasn’t done yet.  I told him his last gift was outside and he bundled up at my direction and followed me out to the garden shed.  How I’ve managed to keep seven dogs quiet and happy for the past three days without Will noticing is a feat worthy of a medieval miracle worker and he was overcome when his pack bowled him over.  He spent close to ten minutes in the snow, petting and hugging his dogs and trying his best not to cry. One thing he didn’t try to hide was how happy he was.  _

 

_ After that came the Debate.  It didn’t matter that the dogs had a lovely heated shed all to themselves packed with toys, a state-of-the-art feeding system, and soft dog beds, oh, no.  No, he wanted them in the house. When he heard that I’d planned for them to stay in the shed I received a lecture of almost ten minutes’ duration about how unhealthy it was for animals to spend so much time by themselves away from their owners.  I tried to explain to him that I wasn’t used to having animals in my home and that I’d made them a very comfortable place all their own, but the look on his face meant that I wasn’t going to just have a fight on my hands if I didn’t give in, it would be a war.  Will might give in on certain things if it was just him involved, but if his pets were involved, then the odds were not in my favor. If I were lucky, then I might survive, but I might not be intact. _

 

_ I gave in when it became clear that Will wasn’t going to.  If necessary, he would go down with the ship and move into the shed and I would feel like an utter ass.  I waved the white flag and helped him carry in the dog beds and toys while the dogs ran about and used up some energy.  When Will whistled they came thundering inside like a furry herd of cattle and their wet paws left damp little prints all over the floors.  Will fetched a clean towel to dry them with and they promptly ignored their very expensive dog beds and made themselves at home on the furniture.  I found one on the chaise in my study and quickly ejected him, lest he think that it was all right for him to be there, but for some reason, the little furball decided I was his new best friend and he began to follow me all over the house.  He followed me so closely that I tripped over him several times, and in the kitchen I decided I’d had enough and took him to Will, explaining the problem. Will took charge of the little furball and I was able to complete the preparations for dinner.  Will and I sat down to a lovely roast beef dinner with an audience of seven dogs, all hoping for a dropped scrap of food. Dessert was a rich chocolate parfait that Will enjoyed very much and he helped me clean up after the meal. He was very cheerful but I still felt a bit of trepidation over the dogs.  I’m sure that for Will’s sake I can get used to them, but I’m sure there will be some learning curve involved.  _

 

_ Will took the dogs outside to run around a bit while I took some peace and quiet for myself, but it seemed a very short time before Will was bringing them back in and drying them off once again.  I could tell he’d exhausted himself, so I made him a hot drink and I was deeply pleased when he made a little nest of pillows and blankets on the floor and burrowed into it. The dogs joined him shortly afterward and he smiled at me in such a way that my heart almost melted for the second time that day.  He thanked me again, I told him he was most welcome, and I was able to watch him nap in the midst of his dogs. I’ve rarely seen him so unguarded and it was truly one of the most wonderful sights I’ve ever seen.  _

 

_ Will’s been much more relaxed these past few days.  He’ll wake early to take his pets for a run, he’ll clean up after them, and then he’ll wash up and join me for breakfast.  Wherever he goes he has an adoring crowd behind him and wherever he chooses to sit at least one or two will make themselves at home on his feet to keep them warm.  He’ll take them out several times a day and a final time in the evening, and then, horror of horrors, he takes them up to his room to join him in his bed. I have to confess that he sleeps very well with all of them crowded around him, but I cannot imagine that it’s comfortable.  I did take their beds up to his room so they could sleep on them rather than him, but I doubt they’ve made use of them. He doesn’t seem to mind. Ah, well. I suppose there’s precious little I can do about the situation--not without calling down Will Graham wrath upon my head, I mean.  I will have to adapt. Perhaps I’ll manage to grow fond of the dogs, as well. _

 

_ That brings us to tonight.  Tonight is New Year’s Eve and in just a few short hours, we will be having half the town joining us to ring in the new year.  I spent today and all of yesterday preparing little bites and nibbles and sweets to serve at the party and more than once I found Will staring at me in awe as I worked.  I taught him quite a few recipes today and he was enjoying helping me make them--and occasionally sneaking a mouthful for himself. I am starting to think that he enjoys sweets more than anything else since he sampled almost all of the sweet items but only tried a few of the savories.  Together we’ve prepared bacon-wrapped scallops, smoked salmon and steak tartare canapes, tiny quiches, two trays of crudites with different sauces, savory rolls stuffed with sausage, apples, and cheese, several types of crostini, stuffed mushroom caps filled with spinach and cheese, tiny meat and vegetable kabobs, and miniature meat pasties.  For the sweets, we’ve of course made lacy little butter cookies, tiny fruit tarts and custard tarts, bite-size cakes of all sorts, delicate fruit and sugar pastries, cream puffs (I know for a fact Will likes those; he helped himself to two before we even plated them), and chocolate breads and truffles and cakes. To be honest, I sampled things as often as he did since we were so busy making the food for the party that we didn’t have much time to make meals for ourselves.  I did insist that we have a hot lunch today and we sat down to vegetable-beef soup, hot ham sandwiches, and peach cobbler, all of it accompanied by hopeful dogs. For dinner we had leftovers (oh, the horror) because both of us had had far too much cooking of late. The party starts at eight o’clock. _

 

_ What am I hoping that this new year will bring?  More time with Will, hopefully with fewer battles.  I hope he settles in and is happy with me. I want him to start looking forward to the time we spend together rather than just enduring it because he has to.  I want him to start making himself at home with me. I want him to imagine a future with me. _

 

_ I once heard Will say, when you dream, you should dream big.  I am dreaming big. _

 

_ It’s time to go and help Will choose what to wear for the party.  He asked if I would help him since he rarely goes to parties, and I promised I would aid him in selecting an appropriate outfit.  This is a chance to dress him up and I just can’t let it pass me by. I think the dark blue suit with a striped tie would be lovely, but then I’m also thinking about a dark gray suit as well.  Perhaps I’ll have him try on both?  _

 

_ At any rate, he will not be wearing jeans and a sweater to this party.  If he attempts to wear that combination, I’ll feed all his sweaters and jeans to his dogs while they are sequestered in his room during the party.  He won’t know about the loss until the next morning when he goes to get dressed--or until his dogs start passing tangles of yarn and bits of denim when they do their business.   _

 

_ Enough toilet humor.  I must focus my thoughts on what Will should wear.  I hope tonight will be a lovely evening for both of us. _

 

Fighting down laughter, Will closed the journal and slipped it back into the desk drawer.  It really irked Hannibal that Will liked wearing the jeans and sweaters rather than all the other expensive clothes in his closet.  He looked down at the blue suit he was wearing and shook his head. It had taken quite a bit of time to choose what to wear, but Hannibal had at last pronounced him ready, and all that was missing from “Warren Holland” were the dark glasses and cane.

 

Reading Hannibal’s hopes for the new year had been a bit disconcerting, but it was nothing that Will hadn’t known before.  If anything, those thoughts were a reminder that Hannibal was dangerous. Oh, he could be affable and good company, but Will could not afford to forget that Hannibal was his kidnapper, and an intimacy-seeking stalker who devolved to kidnapping was always the greatest danger to his victim.  

 

Still, he and Hannibal had agreed to be friends for the time being, and Will knew he could trust Hannibal to keep his word.  He was actually looking forward to this party. He’d lit the lanterns at Hannibal’s request and the house and grounds looked like a Christmas wonderland.  While he was doing that and admiring the lights lining the driveway and winking on and off in the holly hedge maze, Hannibal had undoubtedly written all this down.  Now Hannibal was busy setting the food and drinks out and putting on the music and it was only a few minutes before eight. He picked up the dark glasses and cane just as the doorbell rang.  He slipped on the glasses and held the cane in front of him and made his way out of the study and down the hall to help Hannibal greet their first guest.

 

It was time to party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments! You guys are an inspiration!


	13. Chapter 13

“Hello, Mayor,” Hannibal said politely as Will joined him in the front hallway.  “Looks like you’re first.”

 

“Figured I should be,” the mayor said, handing his coat to Hannibal at his invitation.  “Ah, is there anything you need to finish doing? Something I could help with?”

 

“Not at all; everything’s ready,” Hannibal promised him.  “Please help yourself to refreshments in the dining room.”

 

“Thank you,” the mayor said, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else.

 

Will waited until the man was in the dining room.  “Is it just me, or does he seem like he doesn’t want to be here?”

 

“According to the sheriff, the mayor is a genius at civic administration, but he finds the social obligations of his position trying.  Every time there’s an event, he has to psych himself up, so to speak.”

 

Will thought about it.  “You know, that’s entirely relatable.”  

 

Hannibal’s lips quirked in a smile.  “Somehow, I don’t doubt that. Would you see to our guest and make sure he isn’t at loose ends?”

 

Will shook his head.  “No, trust me, the last thing he wants right now is company.  He’s in there trying to relax and he can’t do that if I’m trying to get him to talk.  He wants to collect himself and get ready for the battle.”

 

Hannibal stared at him, looking amused.  “Is that how you see parties, Will?”

 

“When I go to one, sort of, yeah.”

 

The doorbell rang again and they ushered their next guest inside.  Once about twenty people had arrived, Hannibal released him to circulate while he continued greeting newcomers.  Cautiously, Will made his way around the people, careful not to hit any of them with his cane. Pretending to be a blind man at a party was no joke, that was for certain.  Finally he reached the dining room, where Sally had trapped the mayor in a conversation. “I knew I heard you, Sally,” Will said in a pause in the conversation. “Having a good time?”

 

The relief on Mayor Marshall’s face was plain as Sally’s attention turned to Will, and while she and Will were talking, he slipped away, no doubt an act of self-preservation.  Once she realized that the mayor had disappeared, Sally offered to introduce “Warren” to the people she knew. 

 

“That sounds great,” Will said, willing to let her do the hard work of navigating for him.  Whenever he walked around as “Warren,” he had to be convincing. If someone were leading him, he didn’t have to act so much.

 

It bothered him that he could fall into that role so easily and part of him worried that sooner or later, it would become more natural than breathing, to be “Warren” whenever someone else was around.  That thought scared him quite a bit.

 

It took about an hour or so, but Sally introduced him to everyone she knew--a significant number of people.  Will shook hands, took note of names, and answered the same questions over and over. Yes, he was the one staying with Doctor Lecter, yes, he was feeling much better, and yes, this was his first time in the town.  Finally Sally took pity on him and helped him select some refreshments and a drink.

 

“So, any ill-effects from that cider?” Sally wanted to know as soon as they found a place to sit and eat.

 

“Nah,” Will told her before taking a bite of a canape.  “I just slept really well; that’s all.”

 

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that,” Sally said with feeling.  “I was worried, you know.”

 

“Sorry to worry you, but really, I was fine.”  Will paused to sip at the glass of sparkling water Sally had handed him.  “I went to bed, slept like the dead, and got up to a nice Christmas morning.”

 

“It’s a shame that neither you nor Dr. Lecter could spend it with your families,” Sally sighed.  “I’m sure yours misses you.”

 

Will shrugged.  “They were worried about me, so it may be better if I’m here.  Besides, Hannibal’s good company.” Will was sure that if she kept talking about families, he would let something slip.  The last thing he wanted was for Hannibal to decide to move them somewhere else. He was now familiar with the area around the house, he was familiar with the road to town and the road in the opposite direction, and he had an idea of where things were in this place.  If Hannibal took him somewhere else, then he would have to start gathering information all over again, and he was sure that Hannibal would be much more watchful of him in a new location.

 

“Is he really?” Sally asked.

 

Will smiled, deciding he could safely share a few things with her.  “Of course. He likes to tell stories about places he’s been and things he’s done, and if I’m bored, he’s always more than happy to tell me about them.  If I’m really bored, he’ll read to me, and he doesn’t find it irksome. There are times when I think he must enjoy the books more than I do. Aside from talking, we’ll play games and I’ll sit with him in the kitchen while he cooks and he’ll tell me all about what he’s doing.  Sometimes he’s better than a cooking show!”

 

Sally chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder just as her husband joined her.  “Maybe he should have a cooking show!”

 

Shortly afterward Sally saw someone she and her husband knew and they told Will they would see him later.  Will set his plate and glass aside and started to wander about, saying hello to people who greeted him. He could feel some of them practically radiating curiosity when he drew closer to them, but he played a cool hand and left them with no more information than they had before they spoke.  He was sure the last thing he needed was having someone letting their curiosity get the better of them and making Hannibal nervous. 

 

Hannibal had flung the conservatory doors open, brought in stand heaters, added some in the maze outside, and allowed people to circulate among the hedges without getting cold.  Will enjoyed being able to go outside without having wear a coat and being just as toasty as he was inside. He was wandering the maze when he heard someone say his “name.”

 

“I just find it weird that this mysterious doctor buys this old place and brings a very rich patient with him and then we never see the guy unless the doctor is with him,” Will heard a woman saying.

 

“Well, the guy is blind.  I’m sure it’s done all the time,” another woman said.

 

“When was the last time you saw a doctor move into a country house and bring a patient with him?” the first woman wanted to know.

 

Silence.

 

“That’s what I thought,” the first woman said.  “There’s probably something else going on.”

 

“Oh, yeah?  Like what?”     __

 

“Most likely the doctor’s married and the blind guy is his lover.”

 

Will nearly choked as the second woman laughed.  “Heather!”

 

“What?  Like you said, I’m sure it happens all the time.”

 

Footsteps and someone clearing his throat made both of them fall silent.  “Excuse me, ladies, but I’m looking for Mr. Holland. Have you seen him?”

 

“The blind guy?”

 

A pause, and Will could imagine Hannibal raising an eyebrow.  “Yes.”

 

Will decided to end their agony and pitched his voice so it would carry.  “Dr. Lecter? Are you looking for me?”

 

Hannibal excused himself and headed Will’s way, coming around a corner of the maze.  “There you are, Warren. Doing all right?”

 

“Just fine,” Will said.  “Got a little lost.”

 

Hannibal took Will’s elbow.  “Perhaps you should head back inside?”

 

Will allowed himself to be steered back into the conservatory, but before he led him back to the party, Hannibal took the time to straighten Will’s collar for him.  “You’re a bit chilled. How long were you out there?”

 

“Not long enough to get chilled,” Will pointed out.  “Besides, there were heaters. I was outside at the end of December and I was toasty warm.  It was awesome.”

 

Hannibal’s fingers brushed Will’s hand.  “You weren’t toasty enough; your hands are cold to the touch.  Let’s get you something hot to drink, all right?” So saying, he put an arm around “Warren’s” shoulders and led him back to the main part of the party.  Will was settled in a chair and a minute later Hannibal brought him a cup of hot chocolate, and two minutes after that he was brought a plate full of savories to eat.

 

“That’s not necessary,” Will said quietly.  “Sally already helped me get some things to eat.”

 

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, and I doubt that one little plate of appetizers was enough to satisfy you,” Hannibal responded.  “Don’t think I was so distracted with the party that I didn’t notice. You know you’re still recovering, Warren.”

 

Will took the plate, but only because he saw an older lady looking their way.  “Okay, okay. You caught me.”

 

“I’ll be back later,” Hannibal promised.

 

Will ate the small plate of finger food and sipped at his cocoa.  He nearly started laughing when he realized that the cocoa was a bit stronger than it should have been; it looked like someone might have used a flask to spike it a little!  To stave off any effects from the alcohol, he finished the finger food and carefully made his way to the dessert table to get more food. He was finishing a cream puff when Hannibal appeared, carrying a plate with a single cream puff and a tiny custard tart.  “Warren?”

 

“I felt like dessert.”

 

Hannibal studied the remains left on the plate.  “Exactly how much dessert did you have?”

 

“May I remind you that you wanted me to eat, doctor?” Will said quickly.  

 

“ _ Healthy _ food, Warren.”

 

“I had plenty of that; this is just icing on the cake.”

 

“Or it’s just icing.”

 

Will licked his lips, deciding he could safely goad Hannibal.  “Am I correct in thinking that you’ve brought me something sweet?”

 

Hannibal gave him a look and placed the plate in his hands.  “Just remember that you’re back on your regular diet tomorrow, Warren.”

 

“I’ll remember,” Will said happily.

 

For a moment, Will saw Hannibal give him an indulgent smile before heading off to see to the other guests.  He wasn’t the only one to see it, though, since the woman who had been watching them earlier hid a tiny smile of her own behind her champagne glass.  Will quickly ate the tart in tiny bites and enjoyed the cream puff, finishing off his dessert with the last bit of cocoa in his cup. He left the plate and cup on the table next to the chair (being sure to mime out the actions of locating it with his hands) and left his chair to circulate.

 

Hannibal was...hovering.  No matter where Will went, Hannibal was always within sight of him.  If Will spoke to someone, if he found a spot to stand or sit, or if he was wandering about, then Hannibal was nearby, keeping an eye on him.  For a moment his brain went off on a flight of fancy: What would happen if he dropped the cane, tore off the dark glasses, and shouted, “Hey!  I’m a kidnapping victim! Get the sheriff and arrest this guy!”

 

It was a close thing; a very close thing.  The impulse to do just that was overwhelming and his right hand was twitching to rip off the glasses when Hannibal’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.  “Doing all right, Warren?”

 

Damn, damn, damn.  “Just fine.”

 

“You were looking a little agitated,” Hannibal said softly, pitching his voice so only Will could hear him.  “Are you sure you’re all right? Do you need a break?”

 

“The bathroom, maybe,” Will said.   “Could you get me through this crowd?”

 

The best excuse to use when you were a kid worked just as well when you were an adult, Will noted.  Understanding bloomed on Hannibal’s face and he shepherded Will through the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.  Will spent a few minutes inside taking care of the needful, washing his hands and face, and getting his persona back together.  When he opened the door Hannibal was there to shepherd him to another open area in the party, and then he went off to check on the level of the appetizers, sweets, and drinks.

 

If Will were to be completely honest with himself, he would have to say that Hannibal was an impressive party host.  As soon as one plate of food began to look picked-over, Hannibal would whisk it away to be replenished and present another plate filled with the same items, as beautifully arranged as the first plate.  There was a bar filled with all sorts of drinks and Will had noted that the glasses sparkled and the cloth napkins everyone carried under their plates were pressed and crisp. Music was playing in the background and each selection Hannibal had made for the playlist was bright, yet somehow relaxing.  He had no idea which composer was responsible for each piece, but he found himself surprised by a phrase here and there that he liked. He was pretty sure that the piece that was playing was Beethoven and had been in a movie about King George VI. He’d kind of liked that one, too.

 

Will shifted in his seat and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  Once again, he looked like a magazine model, down to the smallest detail.  Hannibal had helped him color his hair again, helped him dry, comb it, and style it, and it looked perfect.  The biggest surprise had been the professional shave Hannibal had given him along with the manicure, of all things.  Hannibal had sat him down in the bathroom and placed his hands in a bowl of hot water to soak, and soon he was having his nails trimmed, filed, and the cuticles pushed back and trimmed where needed.  Following that had been a massage with some kind of hand cream and then his nails had been buffed until they shone. Once Hannibal announced his hands done, Will stared at them in awe. They looked really good!  “Where did you learn to do this?”

 

“Necessity,” Hannibal told him, packing the manicure set away in its leather case.  “A doctor must take good care of his hands, especially if he is going to be examining and treating patients.  Since I became a psychiatrist, I’ve been unable to give up the habit of taking care of my hands. How do your hands feel?”

 

Will flexed his fingers, noticing the way the light hit his nails.  “They feel really nice. Thank you, Hannibal.”

 

“You’re most welcome, Will,” Hannibal said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “Someday soon you must allow me to do the same for your feet. A pedicure can be very relaxing and beneficial.”

 

“I’ll have to think about it,” Will said, not willing to commit to it.  He wasn’t sure if that would be something he would be comfortable with.

 

Hannibal had helped him pick out an outfit for that night, which, Will remembered had been one of the fantasies Will had glimpsed in Hannibal’s journal.  Hannibal had had a small smile on his face through the whole process, holding up this shirt and tie, this jacket, and so on. Hannibal had finally declared the blue suit to be perfect since “It brings out your eyes, Will.”

 

“No one’s going to see my eyes, since I’ll be wearing dark glasses,” Will reminded him.

 

Will had to fight down a chuckle when he saw the wind leave Hannibal’s sails and he could see Hannibal thinking furiously.  “Ah, well. You’ll still look nice.”

 

Still remembering the process of getting him ready for the party, Will got up and headed into the next room, stopping in the doorway and leaning against the doorframe.  The next room was just as packed with people as the other room had been. Will got a look at the clock over the mantel: almost midnight.

 

A voice made him jump.  “Hey, there.”

 

Will rallied himself and turned to face the speaker.  Yep, he was sure he’d recognized that voice; it was one of the women from the maze.  “Hello.”

 

“Did you know you’re standing under mistletoe?”

 

Will struggled with the impulse to look up.  “Am I?”

 

“Mmm-hmmm.  I see Dr. Lecter hasn’t taken down his Christmas decorations yet.”

 

“It’s a tradition where he’s from,” Will said, remembering what Hannibal had told him.  “Traditionally, the decorations stay up until Epiphany, which is the last day of the traditional Christmas season.”

 

“Fascinating,” she said, sounding as if she found it anything but.  “So, you’re Warren Holland. How did you end up here?”

 

“Sometimes I wonder,” Will said honestly.  “Truthfully, my health took a turn for the worse and my parents arranged for me to stay with Dr. Lecter.”

 

“Why not stay with your parents and have Dr. Lecter visit as needed?”

 

Geez, this woman was nosy.  He shrugged. “They felt this would be better for me, and I really wasn’t in any condition to argue.  Dr. Lecter’s actually...well, he’s not bad. He tends to fuss at me over getting enough rest and remembering to eat, but other than that, he spends most of his time making sure I’m not bored and that time doesn’t hang too heavily on my hands.”

 

“You must be tired of rusticating out here in the country, though.”

 

Will almost snapped at her that she was rusticating in the same town, but he restrained himself.  “I find it restful, actually. No noisy neighbors to bother me, you see?”

 

She arched an eyebrow at him.  “Touche, Mr. Holland.” She glanced away at the rest of the crowd, who had started the countdown to midnight.  She looked back and darted at Will, clamping one of her hands behind his neck to hold him in place, and then her mouth was on his.

 

Will grimaced and pulled away, finding her shoulders and pushing them away from him at the same time.  Finally, she let him go. “What’s the problem?”

 

“You just don’t blitz someone with a kiss like that,” he said firmly.  He wanted to add that a lady shouldn’t chew on someone’s face or drool all over her partner, either, but he resisted the urge.  He felt unsettled and more than a little sick. Did she really think that taking advantage of a blind guy was an okay thing to do?  “If you’d asked my permission, I would have said yes, but you didn’t bother. Excuse me.”

 

Carefully, he made his way away from her, down the hall, and into the conservatory, where it was quieter.  Sally and her husband were there, sitting by the koi pond and cuddled up together. With what had just happened and seeing the two of them like that, Will felt an odd pang of loneliness.

 

Sally glanced at him and then did a double-take.  “Warren? What happened? There’s something all over your face?”

 

“Sally?  Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.  Is there something?” Will said, raising a hand to his cheek and then his forehead.  “Where?”

 

Sally left her seat, settled Will on another bench, and told him to remain where he he was; she’d be back in a moment.

 

“Son, you look like you were attacked by a lipstick monster,” Mr. Ames said companionably.  “Popular with the ladies?”

 

“Popular with at least one, but I think I’ll use the term ‘lady’ lightly,” Will sighed.  “She didn’t...she just grabbed me and…” He stopped and marshalled his thoughts. “Sorry, I don’t quite know how to say it.”

 

“Ah, I see you’ve met Heather Jenkins,” Mr. Ames said sagely.

 

“I think her name was Heather,” Will agreed.  “Is she always like that?”

 

“Since she was a teenager; if she saw a boy, she went after him,” Mr. Ames told him.  “She’s had a few boyfriends, but all of them have found her too much to handle. Wants too much, too quick, and feels they should all bow down to her.”

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t discuss a lady if she’s not here,” Will said quickly, deciding he didn’t want to hear anymore.

 

“Too right, son.  Forgive an old man for gossip.”

 

“Nothing to forgive.”

 

Sally returned then, carrying a cup of warm water and a napkin, and she helped him wash his face and get rid of all traces of lipstick.  “Is all of it gone?”

 

“Every last bit,” Sally promised him, taking the cup and napkin.  “So, I hear you ran into Heather Jenkins?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Will sighed.  “I was surprised as hell when she kissed me.  Thanks for letting me know there was lipstick on my face.”

 

Footsteps made him pause.  Ah, crap. He could recognize those Italian shoes anywhere.  “Warren?”

 

“Here I am, Dr. Lecter,” Will said, knowing that it would do no good to hide.

 

“I heard what happened.  Are you all right?”

 

“Just fine,” Will promised.  

 

“I’m glad.  I asked Ms. Jenkins to depart the party.  I won’t stand for one of my guests to be discomfited in such a manner.”

 

Sally winced.  “Be careful, Dr. Lecter.  Next thing you know, she’ll be spreading rumors about how you threw her out of your party for no reason.”

 

“I doubt anyone will believe those rumors, especially if they are acquainted with the lady in question,” Hannibal pointed out.

 

Sally started to chuckle as likely scenarios occurred to her.  “Oh, my. Oh, dear. Oh, goodness. I now can’t wait.”

 

Will fought down a smile and failed.  “Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”

 

“Precisely.  Warren, will come and help me bid our guests goodbye?”

 

Will went with him to the door and he spent the better part of the next hour shaking hands and wishing people a good night.  When Sally and her husband left, Will surprised himself by holding onto her hand just a little too long and giving it a squeeze.  He hoped she would remember it in the coming days.

 

“A Happy New Year to you both,” Hannibal said, closing the door once they were through it.

 

They were the last guests to depart and Will let out a sigh.  Will moved away from the door and deeper into the house before he removed the dark glasses and set the cane aside.  “That was some party.”

 

“Thank you for the compliment, Will,” Hannibal said, sounding tired but happy as they reached the dining room.  “Did you have a good time?”

 

“Aside from the Heather incident, yeah,” he said, dropping into a chair.  “So, this was a Hannibal Lecter party. Seriously, you should be an event planner.”

 

Hannibal shrugged.  “I enjoy hosting parties from time to time.  Allows me to exercise my propensities as a host, at least.”  Hannibal opened a drawer in the sideboard and pulled out a wrapped package.  “I have something for you, Will. A Happy New Year to you.”

 

Will stared down at the package wrapped in blue paper.  “You didn’t have to get me a gift, Hannibal.”

 

“It’s traditional in my family to also have New Year’s gifts,” Hannibal told him.  “Go ahead and open it.”

 

Smiling, Will untied the ribbon and undid the paper, staring in surprise at one of the leather-bound journals that he could remember Hannibal buying on their trip into town.

 

“I keep a journal,” Hannibal told him.  “I feel that since I have the luxury of recording my thoughts, then you should have the same, Will.”

 

Will felt a smile start and ran his thumb over the fine brown leather cover and clasp.  “Thank you, Hannibal. It’s wonderful.”

 

The smile Hannibal gave him was like seeing the sun peeking up over the hills, promising a fine day to come.

 

Will took the journal upstairs and placed it on his desk before taking his pack outside for a run.  They wore themselves out, Will cleaned up after them, and then he headed inside, yawning. 

 

“I think it’s time for bed for both of us,” Hannibal said, fixing Will some tea.  “Drink that and head up to bed, all right? You need your rest.”

 

Hearing that phrase, Will fixed his gaze on Hannibal.  “I need my rest?”

 

Hannibal’s head came up, surprised.  “Yes. But I promise that I’ve kept my word, Will.”

 

Will looked at him until he couldn’t keep the smile down anymore.  “Okay, Hannibal.”

 

Will finished his tea and headed upstairs, getting ready for bed in record time and welcoming all his dogs to join him on the bed.  He was almost asleep when he heard his door open. He cracked open his eyes, spotted Hannibal, and smiled. “Checking up on me?”

 

“Just once, Will.”

 

“Mmm-hmm.  G’night, Hannibal.”

 

“Good night, Will.  Pleasant dreams.” 


	14. Chapter 14

_Jan 1st._

 

_I’m not sure where to start with this.  It is now New Year’s Day, and I was taken before Thanksgiving.  I hate to say it, but I’ve kind of lost track of the days. I can’t remember the date I was taken, and this bothers me._

 

_This has to be the strangest kidnapping in the history of strange situations.  It’ll make the textbooks for sure. That will most likely be my largest contribution to my field--not the lives saved, not the bad guys put away, but being a victim in the strangest kidnapping I’ve ever heard of._

 

_Aside from the kidnapping, I can’t complain of my treatment since he brought me here.  I have a nice room, things to do, delicious meals, I’m allowed outside as much as I like, and he’s even given me gifts.  This journal is one of them. He even brought me my dogs for Christmas._

 

_Things have been much more bearable since he brought my pack.  I’ve been sleeping better, which is all to the good._

 

_I can’t seem to settle to one thought.  Maybe I should make a list._

 

 

  * __My kidnapper’s name is Hannibal.  He is a psychiatrist. He’s originally from Lithuania and his family is part of the nobility there, but he says that they’re all dead.  He went to school in France and then studied at Johns Hopkins before starting a psychiatry practice. He has several houses, but I don’t know how many.  I’ve been to two--this one and another nearby, which has a stable and an indoor pool. He has one person there who’s helping him--I’m thinking they’re an employee of some kind.  Needless to say, he’s disgustingly rich. He loves to read and he has way, way too many books. Practically every room is a library. He loves to cook and he makes all our meals--and I get mad at myself when I like the food.__


  * _He is an intimacy-seeking stalker who has devolved to kidnapping, but that is where his adherence to the profile ends.  ENDS. He’s..._ ** _out there_** _, kidnapper-wise.  His whole day is geared toward taking care of me and making sure I’m healthy and comfortable.  Nothing makes him happier than taking care of me or fussing over me. When he brought me here he said that he was conducting an experiment to refute a paper Dr. Wallace wrote, but I’ve read his journal (and I have_ ** _no_** _regrets) and it’s clear from what he’s written that he saw me at the BAU and he became obsessed with me.  I don’t know why._


  * _He’s highly-organized and he prepared everything in advance.  He’s made sure I can’t leave the grounds and he did a lot of groundwork in establishing an “identity” for me in case anyone in the nearby town thinks to ask questions.  He says that if people see one person, they won’t think to look for another, and I hate to admit that he’s right. While the situation is difficult, I’m telling myself every day that there has to be a way out._


  * _He’s put a lot of thought into my comfort.  To start, there’s the meals. Three hot meals a day, no two alike, and all of them delicious and well-made.  Lunch and dinner always include vegetables, and most of them include two or more, if possible, and sometimes breakfast will include them as well.  Dessert often incorporates one or more fruits, and breakfast almost always has them on the side. If I want a snack, then there’s fruit, as well as other options, but most of the snacks are healthy ones.  Desserts are the closest I can come to junk food around here and I’ve noticed that occasionally he’s willing to indulge me with a dessert. If I’m irritable, he usually makes something sweet._


  * _I have a pretty nice room.  Double bed, wide windows that let in plenty of light, my own bathroom, a shelf full of books and things to do, and a walk-in closet with a complete and expensive wardrobe.  I think he wishes I would let him choose my outfits--there are a lot of “dressy” clothes in there, but I’ve only let him select something for me for the New Year’s Eve party last night.  Mostly, I wear jeans and T-shirts. My door is locked at night while I’m sleeping and he unlocks it in the morning before I wake up._


  * _This is an awesome house.  It has a conservatory, which I like because I like to admire the fishpond.  I don’t think he would object if I said I wanted to go fishing, but these are koi fish.  No reason to fish, really. I like watching them swim, and so does Buster. The conservatory is nice and relaxing.  There’s also a dining room, kitchen, sitting room, TV room, his study, and the library. The library is insane--there’s tons of books there and he’s included books in every room.  I’ve been reading more here than I have for a while._


  * _The grounds are expansive.  I can be outside for most of the day and not walk over the same piece of ground twice.  There are some small gardens around the house and there are some wooded areas--I got lost in one of them during a freak snowstorm.  The only things I don’t like about the grounds are the very high, difficult-to-climb wall and the damn gate. The wall reaches over my head and I can’t manage to get to the top to climb over it since it’s too smooth for me to get any hand or footholds on it.  The gate is the same problem, and the gaps in the iron scrollwork aren’t big enough for me to put in some branches to make a makeshift ladder. The only times I’ve been out of the grounds is when he takes me, and when he does, I have to wear the persona of Warren Harding.  Annoying, yes, and definitely infuriating, but it’s better than never going out. I don’t think that anyone I’ve met in town suspects anything, more’s the pity._


  * _He treats me like I’m something rare and precious, which is weird.  He makes all my meals and I can tell he’s watching me to make sure I eat.  When I don’t want to eat, he’ll coax me. A few times he’s played a game with me to get me to eat.  Weird? Yes, but it was a good way for me to gain information. If I’m bored or irritable, he’ll distract me.  He’ll talk about his past, talk about things he likes, or he’ll start joking. I hate to say it, but it almost always works.  He’ll also pull out a game and ask me to play it with him. We’ve played dominoes, cards, checkers, chess, Othello, and plenty of others--his stores of them are almost endless.  I don’t want to admit it, but I find him good company most of the time._


  * _As I said before, he loves to take care of me.  I haven’t felt well a few times and he’ll wait on me hand and foot, bringing me meals, drinks, snacks, and so on.  He’ll sit with me and chat to distract me from how I’m feeling, play games with me, like I said, and he’ll read to me, if I want.  The creepiest thing, though, is the reading to me. He’ll read to me when I don’t feel well, but every night he insists on reading part of a novel to me until I fall asleep.  It’s nice and it does help me fall asleep, but it’s creepy as hell._


  * _I’ve noticed that he does his best to get me to relax around him.  From almost the first day, he’s been standing close to me when he can and he touches me at every opportunity--a clap on the shoulder, a touch to my elbow, a hand on my arm when he moves past me--I know what it is, and it scares me quite a bit.  He’s conditioning me to accept his being near me and accept it when he touches me. This...this is a bad sign. It’s a sign that he wants to be closer to me. If he ever pushes the issue, how would he take rejection?_



 

 

Will leaned back in his chair and sighed.  He’d slept late that morning and Hannibal had woken him with a brunch tray around 11:30.  Brunch in bed. It was something that a significant other might do--which Will found disturbing on several levels.  He knew that Hannibal saw him as someone who needed caring for, but could his feelings be classified as romantic? Hannibal had already done plenty of things to encourage Will to like him--was his goal just to get Will to accept him as his caretaker, or did he have another motive in mind?

 

It was the stuff of nightmares.

 

  1. _I’ve rebelled a few times.  My first full day here, I spent it outside, looking for a way out.  When he came to get me in the evening and take me inside, I swung on him and started fighting him.  There were no penalties for this, which surprised me. He let me wear myself out, gave me a hug (or restrained me, depends on how you look at it), and took me back to the house for dinner.  The next time I tried to leave, I found his car and started driving toward the gate, but he had a kill switch. He took me back to the house and sent me up to my room, but that was really the only consequence.  The third time was in the car on the way back to town. I was pissed with him because of what he’d done and how he’d been able to make me pretend to be someone else and my rage boiled over. I tried to strangle him, but my hands were cuffed, and someone saw the struggle and stopped to make sure we were okay.  He’s been keeping a close watch on me each time we go into town. If he were a normal kidnapper, I’d be under rigid control, 24/7, but he gives me a lot of freedom, comparatively speaking. Yeah, it doesn’t make sense._
  2. _My biggest rebellion was blockading myself in my room for four days and not eating.  I got pretty weak due to that and after breaking into my room he took me down to his study and settled me on the chaise lounge and talked to me.  He said that I was sick and needed to be taken care of, he was my only option for a caretaker, and that it would be easier on both of us if we could agree to be friends while I recuperated.  We agreed to be friends until New Year’s, and here it is, New Year’s Day and I’m pretty much recovered._



 

_I guess it’s time to go on the offensive again._

  
  


Will picked up the stick and hurled it with all his might, and all of his dogs took off after it, Winston in the lead.  He and his dogs had been outside for about a half-hour, playing fetch. While he fulfilled his role of stick-thrower, Will mulled over his situation.  He had to think about a way to get out of there. Sure, he was stuck for the moment, but eventually there would be an opportunity for him to go, so it was best to plan ahead.  

 

Winston scurried up to him, dropped the stick, and sat back on his haunches, pleased with himself.  Will picked up the stick again and threw it, Winston almost knocking down Buster in his hurry to fetch.

 

“WILL?  WILL!”

 

The voice sounded so worried and frantic that Will turned toward the house automatically and started running.  Once he was in sight of the house he realized just what he was doing and paused, but it was too late: Hannibal had seen him and was jogging toward him.

 

“What’s wrong?” Will asked as Hannibal reached him.  He did not expect the sudden bear-hug and for a few moments, he was speechless.  “Um...Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal eased up and took a step back, but he held onto Will’s shoulders.  “I apologize, Will,” Hannibal said, his voice full of relief.

 

“What happened?”

 

Hannibal looked as if he wished he didn’t have to say anything about it, but he sighed.  “I fell asleep and I dreamed that you were gone. Once the phone woke me I started looking for you and when I couldn’t find you in the house, I...I suppose I panicked.”

 

“I told you before you went to your study that I was going outside,” Will reminded him.  “Did it slip your mind?”

 

Hannibal nodded.  “I suppose it did.”

 

Will’s brain put together the rest of Hannibal’s words.  “The phone woke you.”

 

“I have a cell for emergencies.  There is an emergency, so I’m going to need you to go inside.”

 

Will had a sudden, wild daydream of running away from Hannibal.  “What emergency?”

 

“The sheriff just called; a child’s been hurt and she may bleed out before they could get her to the hospital.  They’re on their way here now since we’re closer and Sheriff O’Donovan is escorting them. Please, Will, don’t be difficult and go inside.  I need to take care of the little girl.”

 

Will finally noticed that Hannibal had a bag over his shoulder.  “You’re going to meet them at the gate?”

 

Hannibal nodded.  “The sooner I see that wound, the better.  Please, Will.”

 

He should have been difficult.  He should have been stubborn. He should have started fighting right then to get away.  Instead, he turned and headed up to the house, the image of a scared and hurt little girl driving his steps.  He whistled to his pack and they came thundering along, and then he was in the house. He hung up his coat and headed up the stairs, his dogs trailing behind him, and soon they were all in his room.  He closed his door and made a beeline for the window, keeping himself hidden from anyone outside. Shortly he saw the sheriff’s car and another car approach the house and then stop. Hannibal got out of the second, carrying a small child and Sheriff O’Donovan helped them both into the house.  The parents followed behind.

 

Five second later and Will heard the screaming.  It was a very small kid, from the sound of it; perhaps two or three years old.  Will felt gooseflesh rise on his arms from the screaming. It sounded awful downstairs.

 

He didn’t know how long it took, but it was starting to get dark by the time Will heard people outside.  The father was carrying the child to the car and Hannibal was speaking to the mother. A few minutes later they got into their car, the sheriff got into his, and they drove away down the drive.  Will could see fatigue in every line of Hannibal’s body as he raised his hand to see them off and then turn back to the house.

 

Will left his room and headed downstairs, where he found Hannibal slumped in a dining room chair, his upper body sprawled on the table, head resting on his arm, and his eyes closed.  He’d never seen Hannibal so unguarded before. “Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal jerked upright and turned to face him.  “Will? Something wrong?”

 

“That’s my line,” Will said, taking a seat across from him.  “You okay?”

 

“Just a bit tired,” Hannibal admitted, rubbing his face with his hand.  “She might be her parents’ only child and pride and joy, but she was an absolute little devil to treat.  Kicked, screamed, tried to bite me, and the parents were so afraid of hurting her that they didn’t do a good job of holding her still for me.  Sheriff O’Donovan needed to intervene.”

 

“Good that he did?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Hannibal said.  “She lost quite a bit of blood from that injury, but fortunately, not enough to be dangerous.  The older boy next door was showing her his new camping hatchet and he dropped it. It ended up slicing her arm open from elbow to wrist.  I was able to apply a local anesthetic and stitch the wound, but she didn’t make it easy. They’ll be taking her to her regular pediatrician tomorrow and I wish him joy of her.”

 

“Kids find it hard to behave when they’re scared,” Will said.

 

“I know,” Hannibal sighed.  “It’s the parents I want to hit over the head with a frying pan.  They did not make the job any easier by panicking.”

 

“Having a kid hurt can be scary for a parent,” Will reminded him.  “Why don’t I get you something to drink?”

 

“That would be most appreciated, Will, thank you.”

 

Hannibal had made a pitcher of lemonade only yesterday, so Will got him a tall glass of it and took it to him.  Seeing the clock at seven o’clock, Will returned to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Hmmm. Yep, that would work nicely.  Within ten minutes he was frying strips of beef and vegetables in a pan on the stove and boiling rice. Once the rice was done he dished everything up on two plates and carried them to the dining room, placing one steaming plate in front of Hannibal, who had sprawled onto the table again.  “It’s not like you to sleep at the table.”

 

Hannibal cracked open one bleary eye.  “It’s been a long time since I treated a patient that challenging, Will.”  He sniffed and stared at the plate. “What’s this?”

 

“Dinner,” Will said, taking his own seat after handing Hannibal his silverware.  “Beef stir fry with rice.”

 

Hannibal sat up properly and repositioned the plate in front of him, still staring at it.  “You made me dinner?”

 

“You’ve had a hard day,” Will said, taking a bite of his meal.  Seeing Hannibal so wrecked made him feel sorry for the poor man.  “And you’ve made all my meals since you brought me here. I figured it would be nice if I could return the favor this once.”

 

Hannibal’s smile transformed his tired face.  “Thank you, Will.”

 

“You’re welcome.  It’s best if you eat it before it gets cold.”

 

Hannibal needed no more prompting and he dug in.  As soon as the first bite was in his mouth, he paused, chewed slowly, and smiled.  “Mmm. This is delicious, Will. Thank you again.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

They continued eating, mostly quiet, each lost in his own thoughts of the day.  Hannibal asked if there were enough for second helpings and Will got some for both of them, saying that there was enough for thirds, if they wanted.  After they finished eating, Hannibal helped Will with the dishes and Will got the surprise of his life when Hannibal asked if he would like to watch something on television.

 

“Okay, now I know for sure you’re tired,” Will said.  “You rarely watch TV.”

 

“I’m tired enough to enjoy television, but I don’t want to go to bed yet.  If I do, I’ll just wake up too early tomorrow. What would you like to watch?”

 

They settled on the sofa across from the television and scrolled through the online offerings.  After a few minutes Will asked to watch _Nicholas Nickleby_ and they settled happily back on the couch pillows to watch the main character’s adventures.  They were just halfway through the movie when Will heard the slightest snore. Hannibal’s head had sunk forward on his chest and he was asleep.  Will fought down a chuckle and kept his attention on the movie.

 

Once the credits were rolling, Will tapped Hannibal’s arm.  “Hannibal?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“The movie’s over, and I think you fell asleep.  Do you think you should maybe go to bed?”

 

Hannibal shifted and leaned against Will.  “Mm-hmm.”

 

Will froze.  “Umm...Hannibal?  I’m not your bed.”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

Will waited a moment and then poked Hannibal’s chest with a finger.  “Wake up.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes opened, stared at Will, and he jerked upright yet again.  “Will! Oh, I am so sorry. I did not intend to do that.”

 

“You were sleeping,” Will said.  “Actually, you were dead to the world.  You okay?”

 

“Fine, yes, just….very, very tired.  I think perhaps I should go to bed.” He got to his feet and paused, his expression one of pure dismay.  “Wait, what about--?”

 

“I can read to myself tonight,” Will assured him, mightily amused.  “Go to bed, huh? You’re asleep on your feet.”

 

Hannibal nodded and shuffled out the room, clearly exhausted.  Still amused, Will shut everything off and started prowling the house.  He tried the garage doors, but both were locked. He tried the study, but the desk was locked.  Looked like he wasn’t going to find anything useful tonight.

 

Will headed upstairs, took his dogs out for a quick run, and then got ready for bed.  He didn’t read, he just curled up, whistled to his dogs, and settled in for a relaxing night.  He fell asleep shortly afterward and slept clear through the night. The next morning the sound of his door being unlocked woke him, so he got up and got dressed and headed downstairs.  

 

“Morning,” Will said, poking his head into the kitchen.  “Feeling better?”

 

“Much better,” Hannibal admitted.  “I’m sorry for passing out on you last night.”

 

“There’s no need to apologize; I can tell you were tired.  I’m going to take the dogs out for a bit, all right?”

 

Hannibal nodded and flipped the omelette he was making.  “That’s fine. Don’t take too long, or your breakfast will get cold, all right?”

 

“Don’t worry; I won’t.”  Whatever Hannibal had in that omelette smelled fantastic and Will could feel his mouth watering.

 

He took the dogs outside and let them run a bit, but then he saw Buster break away from the pack and start running.  Surprised, Will followed, jogging after his dog. “Buster! Here, Buster! Buster, where are you going? Get back here, you nutty mutt!”

 

Through a small area of woods, across some lawn, down the drive, and...Will froze and stared, his brain refusing to put it together.  How did…? When did…? Did Hannibal know....?

 

Will whistled to his dogs and they all came running, with Winston and Poptart darting over to join Buster.  On the road. Outside the gate.

 

_The gate was open._


	15. Chapter 15

He had no idea how long he’d been walking.  He was cold clear through and he was sure that at any moment he’d hear Hannibal’s car behind him, but so far, so good.  No Hannibal yet. He’d been walking about a half-hour, so Hannibal must have noticed his disappearance by now, especially just before a meal.  He would wonder where Will had got to and why it was taking him so long to return from taking his dogs out for a run, and then he would start looking for Will. 

 

Winston and the rest of his pack thought this was a grand adventure.  They were still with him, trotting with him along the road and then off gamboling in the underbrush when it suited them.  They would always return to him, though, when he whistled, which was good. He didn’t want to have to break off his journey to go find them.  The further he walked, the closer to town he got, and the better his chances of meeting someone. Even if it were someone he knew, like Sally or Sheriff O’Donovan, it would be clear that even if he were recognized as “Warren Harding,” it would be difficult for Hannibal to explain a blind man who could suddenly see.  One phone call to Jack Crawford and then Will would be in the clear and on his way home.

 

What happened to Hannibal after that was something that Will didn’t want to waste energy thinking about.  He’d be charged with kidnapping; that was for certain. Unlawful imprisonment, drugging, lying to a police officer...yep, those were all crimes.  Hannibal had broken quite a few laws. He’d go to prison, that was for certain, but Will just hoped that the evidence would be enough to convict him.  He really didn’t want to testify in court and relive the whole experience.

 

Will paused to shake himself and kept walking.  He couldn’t think so far ahead right now. No, what he needed to do was focus only on getting to town.  That was the most important thing. If he were distracted and Hannibal came to find him, then the distraction could cost him his freedom.  He’d have to think about the aftermath after he got to town and established his identity. That was safest.

 

His plan was simple: Get to town and have the first person he met call the sheriff.  Once he’d spoken to the sheriff he would have the sheriff contact Jack Crawford, who would confirm Will’s identity.  Like the force of nature he was, Jack would swoop into town like a hurricane and jump into the investigation. He knew that Jack had a special interest in him because of what he could do and he knew Jack would be pissed beyond description or human understanding that someone had taken his best tool in taking down murderers.    

 

No, Jack Crawford would not be showing any kidnapper who had messed with Will Graham any mercy.

 

It was almost enough to make Will feel sorry for Hannibal.

 

_ Almost. _

 

Whenever he felt a twinge of sympathy for Hannibal, Will reminded himself of all that Hannibal had taken from him.  His freedom. His home. His own possessions. His work. Even his identity, sometimes, despite Hannibal’s classification of “Warren Harding” as a “mask.”  It was still a mask he was forced to wear to serve Hannibal’s own ends, which wasn’t right. He’d even taken Will’s pets from him for a time, and despite returning them to Will’s life, that didn’t make up for the fact that all the upheaval Will had experienced had been Hannibal’s fault to begin with.  That, and it was manipulative as hell. 

 

He’d been close to the problem for the whole time and Will was sure that all of his captivity had been nothing but massive manipulation on Hannibal’s part.  Even the purpose of the captivity had not been what he’d told Will. There was no experiment--he’d taken Will because he’d wanted to. Ever since Hannibal had brought Will to that house, he’d been manipulating him through what Hannibal had provided for him and what he’d said and done.  The clothes, the meals, the time spent together, their surroundings, and all the little “kindnesses” Hannibal had shown him...it had all served Hannibal’s purposes and kept Will dancing to his tune.

 

No more, he told himself.  Never again. He was going to reach town and he was going to get the hell away from the nutcase that was Hannibal Lecter.  The kidnapping would make a fascinating case study for the textbooks and he was sure that a few specialists would find it engaging reading, but that would be it.  Will would go back to his life and Hannibal would go to jail for being a manipulative whack job with a penchant for imprisoning people and lying as easily as he breathed, and good riddance.

 

_ And you’ll go back to being Jack’s special project, _ a tiny portion of his brain offered.   _ You’ve known from the beginning that he’s only ever cared about results and not really about you, but you’ve convinced yourself that doesn’t matter--you’re saving lives.  You’ll be stressed out and worn out, but you’ll be doing what you’re good at. _

 

Will ignored it and pressed on.

 

_ It’ll be back to fast-food dinners on the run near whatever crime scene you have to work, _ the perverse part of his brain continued.   _ Too little sleep, too little down-time, and no one making sure you’re all right as long as you continue to produce results.  No more home-cooked meals, no more spending your time as you like with no Jack Crawford to answer to, and no more conversations or games in front of the fireplace in the evening.  You liked all that, didn’t you? _

 

“Shut up,” Will muttered, quickening his pace.  How twisted was it when your own brain tried to sabotage you, especially about something like  _ this _ ?  Sternly Will reminded himself about captor bonding and Stockholm syndrome and broke into a little jog.  Looking at things logically, Hannibal was the only other human being in the house--a bond  _ would  _ form since he was the only other person around.  A human being needed other humans around him simply for his continued mental well-being.  When pickings were scarce, then the human psyche adapted and did what it could. Sometimes, that meant a victim would bond with his captor.  That was all his situation had been; a route to surviving less-than-ideal circumstances. Once he was away from Hannibal and safely in Jack’s hands, then he would have to come to terms with his captivity.  He knew from past cases and case studies that there might even be a mourning period, but just because he might mourn didn’t mean that he would mourn Hannibal. No, he would be mourning a bond, and that was all.  He’d go through the grieving process and arrive at acceptance and he would manage to move on with his life. He owed that to himself and no one else. One way or another, he was going to be okay.

 

The sound of a car made him freeze and dive into the brush.  If it was Hannibal, he would have to hide and/or run. If it wasn’t Hannibal, then perhaps this person could be an ally--or at the very least, a ride to town.  Will peeked through some barren raspberry canes and saw that the car was a gray hatchback, and he left the brush to flag the car down. It slowed to a halt and the window rolled down.  “You all right?” 

 

It was a pretty Asian woman with a slight accent.  Not Hannibal. “Not really,” Will said. “Could you drop me in town?  I really need to talk with the sheriff.”

 

The woman blinked.  “Are you in trouble?”

 

“Only if I don’t talk to the sheriff,” Will said honestly.  “Could you help us out?”

 

She glanced at the pack of dogs with him.  “As long as the dogs ride in back. They’ve got muddy paws.”  The hatch popped open and Will felt relief settle over him as he got his dogs stowed.  One short car ride and then he was home free. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Will said as he finished settling his dogs and had taken his seat.  “I was really in a tough spot.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” the woman said, putting the car into gear and turning up the heat.  “You must have been walking for a long time; your lips are practically blue.”

 

“It was a long walk,” Will admitted.  “You’re really saving my life.”

 

“Glad I can help.  What sort of trouble are you in, if you don’t mind me asking?  I’m not going to have a crazed maniac come after me for helping you, am I?”

 

Will breathed out a dry laugh.  “Ah, no. As for the trouble...I doubt you’d believe me if I told you.”

 

The woman glanced at him and then back to the road.  “Really? It must be something unusual, then.”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

She glanced at him again.  “Oh, come on. Now you have to tell me.  This sounds good.”

 

Will glanced at her.  Was she flirting with him?  Of all times and places to meet someone this attractive...no, now was  _ not _ the time.  Will took a breath and leaned back in his seat, fiddling with the edge of the seatbelt.  “If you want to stick around while I talk the sheriff, that’d be okay with me. I do owe you some explanation since you’re helping me, but I think it’ll be difficult for me to talk about more than once.”

 

She nodded.  “Fair enough.”  She glanced at him again.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with UFOs or little green men, would it?  Whenever someone thinks they’ve been abducted by aliens, the first thing they usually do is talk to the police.”

 

Will laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes.  “No,” he wheezed after a minute. “No, my situation isn’t  _ that _ weird; I promise.”

 

She smiled at him.  “Good. Unusual I can handle, but downright weird?  Not at all. What’s your name?” She switched the car’s blinker on and the car turned.

 

“Will.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Will.”

 

It was a measure of how tired and he distracted he was that he didn’t realize what was wrong until a full five minutes had passed.  “Wait a second, where are we?”

 

“The road to town.”

 

“But I’ve been to town, that other road is a straight shot there,” Will insisted.

 

“This is a shortcut; it takes a full five minutes off the drive,” she answered.  “I figured speed was essential since you want to talk to the sheriff.” 

 

Will looked at her out of the corner of his eye.  She looked like any lady on her way to town. There were folded cloth shopping bags on the backseat, she was wearing sensible shoes and a warm coat.  No, he was being paranoid. “Thanks for thinking of that.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The road began winding then, back and forth, and Will’s gut complained at the movement.  He’d had nothing to eat since last night and now he was so hungry he was nauseous. He was sure that he could get something to eat in town.  He couldn’t help thinking of the breakfast Hannibal had been making, but then he reminded himself that a meal eaten in freedom--even a bad one--was better than a meal eaten in captivity.  

 

“You’re looking awfully pale,” she said after a minute.  “Are you feeling all right?”

 

“Just a little carsick, that’s all,” Will said.  “I’ll be fine in a little while.”

 

Another few turns and Will had to wonder if that was true.  He could actually feel himself turning green. Another turn, and he was certain that...wait a minute.  There was a car on the road ahead. As they got closer he could make out the model and the person standing beside it.  He turned his head as quickly as he could, praying that Hannibal hadn’t spotted him…

 

The car he was in slowed, and then stopped.  The engine switched off. Will stared at the woman.  “What are you doing? Why have we stopped?”

 

She looked at him, all friendliness gone.  “This is as far as I go.”

 

Will’s hand flew to the door handle as Hannibal approached the car, but the locks were engaged.  He could only sit there as the woman rolled down the window and Hannibal looked inside. “Thank you, Chiyoh.  I’m glad you found him.”

 

“He was right where you said he’d be,” she said.  “It’s no trouble.”

 

Will stared at both of them.  “You two know each other?” 

 

Chiyoh looked at him.  “I was his aunt’s retainer and I still do him the odd favor now and then.  I’m the one who got the swimming room and stable ready for you, and I’ve been staying in that house in case I was needed.  Looks like I was.” She pushed a button and the doors unlocked. 

 

Will was out of the car in a second, but Hannibal was faster and Will ran right into him.  Hannibal’s hands clamped onto Will’s shoulders and held him still, and Will found himself looking directly into Hannibal’s eyes.

 

Oh,  _ shit _ .  Hannibal was  _ pissed _ .

 

“You can choose to make this easy on yourself, or you can choose to make it hard, but either way, you’re getting into my car, Will,” Hannibal said, his tone deadly serious.  “Which is it going to be?”

 

“I see a third option,” Will said, pushing away from Hannibal, hoping to play for a little time.  “Please let me go.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes hardened and his grip tightened.  “Last chance to make the decision, Will. Either you walk to the car on your own, or Chiyoh and I carry you, and if we have to do that, you’re going to be very, very unhappy.”

 

Chiyoh got out of her car, looking ready to carry out Hannibal’s bidding.  For a moment, Will had a wild fantasy of kicking both their asses, but he already knew Hannibal was a match for him physically, and with Chiyoh to help him, especially if he didn’t know what her capabilities were or if she were armed...no, there were too many unknowns, there.  Just because she was female it didn’t mean that she was harmless. He had to keep himself safe. 

 

Will dropped his eyes.  “All right. I’ll get in the car.”

 

“I’m glad you’re being reasonable.”

 

Hannibal and Chiyoh walked Will to the Bentley and Hannibal opened the door and made Will sit down on the seat.  Once he was sitting, Hannibal pulled out some handcuffs, secured Will’s hands, and belted him into the seat. He closed and locked the car door and stood outside for a few minutes speaking to Chiyoh, who nodded and went back to her car. 

 

“Chiyoh will bring your dogs home,” Hannibal said as he got into the driver’s seat.  “It’s good she found you when she did; if you’d gone a little further on your own you would have been in sight of the town.  Now, while I’m driving us home, I do not want to talk. We’ll talk when we get there. Understood?”

 

Will stared down at his cuffed hands and nodded.  “Yes.”

 

The drive seemed to last for an eternity.  Will saw all the landmarks he’d passed on his walk and with each one, he felt himself getting more and more depressed.  It wasn’t long before he felt tears slipping down his face. He had been so close! Why the hell did Hannibal have to have an evil minion doing his bidding?

 

The tears were dry by the time they reached the wall and the gate, which was still open.  Hannibal drove through the gate, followed by Chiyoh, and they headed up the driveway. Will spotted Chiyoh behind them at the gate, making sure that it was closed and locked.  Will felt his heart drop as he saw the gate swing shut behind her. He wasn’t going to get another chance like this one again; Hannibal would make sure of it.

 

They pulled into the garage and Hannibal shut off the engine as the garage door closed.  He got out of the car, crossed to the passenger side, and opened the door. He unbelted Will and pulled him to his feet, shutting the car door once Will was clear.  

 

Will wasn’t sure what happened then.  One moment he was comparatively calm, then the next, he was flipping out.  He screamed at Hannibal and let loose with a volley of curses that would have stunned a lesser man and then he was twisting in Hannibal’s arms like a rabid mongoose intent on death and a whole lot of biting.  Hannibal wrestled with him for a good five minutes before he got a secure enough hold on Will to drag him out of the garage and into the house. Ten more minutes of wrestling got them to the foot of the stairs, but no further.  Another five minutes of wrestling, trying to punch with cuffed hands, kicking, and swearing followed, and through it all, Hannibal held himself in control. It was when Will gave a particularly colorful curse about Hannibal’s nature and a well-timed kick to Hannibal’s knee that Hannibal growled, grabbed hold of Will, and slammed him down to sit on the bottom step.  Pain shot up Will’s spine and surprised him into silence.

 

“ _ Do not move, Will, _ ” Hannibal growled, still holding onto his shoulders.  “In case you haven’t guessed, we’ve reached the ends of my patience.  You are to remain here until I come to collect you. If I return and find you gone, or if I even find you standing, you will be very, very, sorry.”

 

Shit, shit, shit.  Will nodded and stayed where he was.  Hannibal stalked off toward his study and Will heard the door slam.  He sat there and he felt himself start to shake. What was going to happen to him now?  What was Hannibal going to do to him?

 

He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to stop shaking.  He didn’t know what was going to happen yet, so it was a waste of energy to think about it, but his brain couldn’t think of anything else.  Hannibal was very, very angry, and that was not good for Will. Due to his work, he knew just how bad things could get for a victim. He knew some victims had begged to die after being punished by their captors for infractions.  Hannibal was an intimacy-seeking stalker who’d devolved to kidnapping and Will had just tried to leave. This was not a good situation.

 

Unbidden came memories of a case he’d read about a few months ago.  A man had started kidnapping women, looking for his one true love. When they tried to escape, he took it as a sign that the current victim was the wrong one, and he killed them.  Another case with an intimacy-seeking stalker had ended very badly for the victim--when he tried to escape, the stalker had killed him so he could never leave.

 

Today might be the last day of his life.

 

It was just a little past a half-hour that Will heard the study room open and Hannibal’s footsteps approach.  Will could feel his heart start beating double-time as the footsteps got closer. All too quickly, Hannibal was standing in front of him.  Taking his courage firmly in both hands, Will looked up.

 

Hannibal didn’t say anything right away.  He looked Will up and down, blinked, and came to a decision.  “I’d like you go up to your room, Will. You’re not to leave it.  Understand?”

 

Will nodded and fled, wincing a bit at his sore rear.  Being slammed down on a step and then not allowed to get up meant he’d be both sore and stiff.  Wonderful. He reached his room, pulled off his coat, and hung it up in the closet. He toed off his shoes, used the bathroom, and stretched out on his bed to try to think.  Perhaps if he made himself seem contrite then maybe Hannibal wouldn’t...who the hell was he kidding? He shook his head and clutched a pillow. It was going to be bad, no matter what he did or said.

 

He lay there for a while, trying hard not to think too much of what was going to happen.  Images of what Hannibal might do to him kept running through his head and he knew that he didn’t want any of it to happen.  Why the hell was Hannibal making him wait so long? 

 

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he had vague dreams of trying to run away from something he couldn’t possibly outrun.  The worst of it was that when he looked ahead and saw Hannibal, he headed right for him, feeling that he would be able to protect him.

 

“Will?”

 

Will jerked awake with a gasp and the events of the day rushed back to him.  He looked up, spotted Hannibal, and sat up. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

“Do to you?” Hannibal echoed, sounding thoroughly mystified.

 

“For running.”

 

Hannibal stared at him.  “Will, you sound as if you think I’m going to punish you.”

 

Will couldn’t speak.

 

“I was very angry when I realized that you’d left, but then I remembered that it is past New Year’s and we’d agreed to remain friends only until then.  I am your kidnapper and it’s only logical that you would try to escape me. I’m not going to hold a grudge against you for that.”

 

Will found himself hugging a pillow.  This...was impossible. This fit no psychological profile out there.  What the hell was going on?

 

“I was angry downstairs because of the way you were speaking to me and the fact that you were doing your best to ruin my knees,” Hannibal continued.  “The two kicks you landed were painful, Will.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Will said, his mouth ignoring all signals from his brain to shut the hell up.  “You’re going to do something to me.”

 

“All I’m going to do is confine you to your room for the next two days,” Hannibal said smoothly.  “I’ll bring your meals to you and I’ll be taking care of your pets for you, but I feel two days is enough time to make up for the worry you caused me today.  Later, when you’re calmer, we can talk about this some more if you like, but I can make a promise now that I won’t harm you. The only punishment you’re going to have is two days in your room and a great deal of boredom during that time.”  

 

Will stared at him.  That could not be it.

 

Hannibal checked his watch.  “Well, it is almost one o’clock, and you have not even had breakfast today.  I am going to go make us some lunch and I’ll bring you up a tray. Try not to fret too much, Will, all right?”

 

Will wasn’t sure if it was shock or just disbelief, but he nodded, and Hannibal clapped him on the shoulder and left.  Will stared at the locked door and shook his head, trying to make sense of it.

 

What the hell had just happened?


	16. Chapter 16

From Will Graham’s Journal:

 

_ Just when I think this situation can’t get any weirder, it does.  I tried to get away--I managed it for a few hours--but Hannibal’s lackey caught me.  Her name is Chiyoh and she says she does the “odd favor” for Hannibal every now and then.  She was the one Hannibal was talking to on that day he took me horseback riding and swimming.  Since I never saw her that day, I never realized that she was who she was until it was too late. _

 

_ Hannibal brought me back to the house while she brought my dogs (there was no way in hell I was leaving them behind with him, so I took them when I left) and I don’t know what happened, but I went nuts as soon as he got me out of the car.  I was screaming, cursing, and doing my best to pound him into pulp. With my hands cuffed the damage I could do was limited, but according to Hannibal, I did manage to land a few good kicks. _

 

_ He told me we’d reached the boundaries of his temper after he slammed me to sit down onto the bottom step of the staircase--I think he did it to get me to stop kicking him.  It freakin’ hurt, and I’m still a bit sore today. I always knew he was strong, but he must have put all his strength behind that push. I checked and I’m a bit bruised, but I’m  _ **_never_ ** _ going to tell him.  I don’t want to hear how he would try to word that apology.  Even worse, he’s got medical training--he might want to check the injury for himself, and that is a big, fat  _ **_NO_ ** _ in my book.  Nope, he’s never going to know--EVER. _

 

_ All that was yesterday.  He told me not to move from that step, and I was so scared that I did as I was told.  I’d never seen him that angry and I knew that it would take just a little thing to make him really lose it, so I stayed where he put me.  A half-hour later, he came and told me to go up to my room, and he came up later to talk to me. He told me that I was confined to my room for two days--yesterday afternoon didn’t count.   _

 

_ I was certain something was going to happen--that he was going to hurt me somehow to punish me for running from him.  I’ve read more than a hundred case files about kidnappings and in all of them, if the victim ran away and was caught, there was always some form of punishment.  The details were always, always bad--gruesome, even. The more disturbed captors permanently disabled their captives, if they didn’t kill them. Others resorted to sexual assault to punish their captives.  All of this knowledge was stewing in my head when I went upstairs and despite being so anxious I felt sick, I managed to fall asleep. I had a nightmare and when I woke up I was in no condition to think rationally.  My nerves got the better of me and I blurted a question about what he was going to do to me before I could stop myself, and I think he was genuinely surprised at it. He said he wasn’t going to do anything worse than keeping me in my room for the next two days.  _

 

_ That was all.  That’s my punishment.  It’s the morning of the second day and I am still very, very confused about all this.  I expected things to be a lot more dire. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of a kidnapping like this.  Hannibal is an outlier amongst kidnappers. Kidnappers always take people for a purpose, and the most common one is always financial gain.  That’s not his purpose in taking me--he wants to take care of me, which is unusual. Most often, if the purpose is not financial gain, it is for some personal purpose of the kidnapper’s, but in many respects, this kidnapping and captivity serves my interests more than Hannibal’s.  He’s made this kidnapping all about me, really--he’s attuned to my wants and needs and spends a great deal of his time striving to meet those. Based on what I read in his journal, his meeting my wants and needs may be helping him to meet some wants and needs of his own, but like I said, this is the strangest kidnapping I’ve ever heard of.   _

 

_ I don’t want to think about the papers researchers are going to want to write about this.  I was inundated with requests for interviews when Wallace’s paper came out; I can only imagine what it’s going to be like when I get out of here and return home.  There’s going to be a media circus and Freddie Lounds will probably be the ringmaster. I might have more peace if I didn’t try to leave, but I have to. I can’t spend the rest of my life as Hannibal’s prisoner. _

 

_ A thought just occurred to me--Hannibal took me on a day trip and he’s taken me into town twice already.  I know that some kidnappers come to trust their victims enough to take them out of captivity, and Hannibal’s done that.  What if I can get him to trust me enough to take me further away? Longer trips? Longer trips with more people around, or perhaps to the nearest city?  That would be promising. _

 

_ Hannibal said my punishment would be two days of boredom, and he’s right.  I wish I could watch TV--it would make the time go faster. Still, I have some stuff to pass the time with--not my dogs, though.  Hannibal has taken them downstairs with him, and he says I’ll get them back this evening. _

 

_ Bastard. _

 

_ Still, I suppose it could be worse.  He could have taken the books and games and this journal!  At least I have stuff to do. I tried reading earlier but couldn’t settle to it, so I pulled out this journal and started writing.   _

 

_ Hannibal’s been bringing me my meals on a tray--complete with cloth napkin in a napkin ring, bright, shiny silverware, and faceted crystal water glass.  It doesn’t matter that I’m being punished; Hannibal won’t allow a meal to be less-than-perfect. I have to admit, I think he’s feeling a bit guilty about punishing me.  Last night dinner was great--steak with grilled mushrooms, baked potato, broccoli, and for dessert there was peach sherbet. This morning breakfast was a protein scramble with eggs and sausage and there was a cinnamon roll on the side.  Maybe he’s trying to soothe his guilty feelings by providing me with desserts and some of my favorite foods. Maybe if I look especially woebegone when he brings me my lunch I’ll get something really good for dinner. Hmmmm. What if he made fried fish with hushpuppies or jambalaya?  I might die--I’ve been craving those for a while. I won’t even think about the desserts I want. _

 

_ I’ve noticed when I’m stressed I crave sweet things.  I wonder if that’s why Hannibal makes them--he would be a complete idiot not to realize that being held captive is stressful.  I often feel stressed out, but there are times when I hit critical mass and stop feeling it. It SUCKS. I get really, really tired and irritable and I just feel more irritable when Hannibal shows how understanding he can be when I’m in a bad mood.  If I were less afraid of reprisals, then I’d probably punch him whenever he starts getting oh-so-understanding. _

 

_ When Hannibal brought me my breakfast this morning, I was already up and dressed and my dogs were ready and raring to get outside.  Hannibal took them outside for me and he brought up my breakfast tray, which was when he told me that I wouldn’t have the company of my dogs during the day.  I argued, of course--they were my dogs, not his, and he had no right to keep them from me. He pointed out that this was a punishment. I asked him if he believed in cruel and unusual punishment and he answered that being deprived of my dogs was not cruel or unusual, it was just a punishment.  I said that I didn’t see a difference. He told me to eat my breakfast. Needless to say, I lost that argument. _

 

Will put the pen down and massaged his hand.  More and more, he was writing in that journal.  He’d never bothered with one before, but it was cathartic to write down his thoughts down.  The more he felt, the more he wanted to write. He doubted anyone would be able to make out his handwriting without the help of a psychic, but that was all to the good: no one would be able to read it, and that included Hannibal.  Will leaned back in his chair and read his words over again and reflected that his journal might end up in evidence. Ah, well. If it was something he wanted to carry on with, he’d just have to get another journal once he was home.

 

_ Sometimes I still think about what Hannibal’s written in his journal, and I’m not going to lie--it makes me nervous.  He wants me to like him. He wants me to let him take care of me. He wants me to stay with him. That’s something that I could never consider--to start with, he kidnapped me.  He ensured that someday, he’ll go to prison. Even if I wanted to stay with him (ha-ha--NO) I wouldn’t be able to since he was in prison. The consequences of his actions preclude the result he wants.  I can tell, though, that the things he does and says are all done and said with his wished-for result in mind. He does nice things for me to get me to like him, and he’s the only human being around--hence, he’s my only company.  Even if you hate somebody, you’d want to be around them if they were the only other human on Earth. That’s just the way human beings are. I do like when he’ll sit and talk with me, or play games with me, and I do like the meals--I’d have to be dead in the tongue NOT to like them!--but still.  I can’t let myself like these things too much. No, that would be bad. I just have to remind myself of my circumstances as often as I can. Hannibal is my kidnapper. That makes him the BAD GUY. I have to get away from the BAD GUY. If this were a movie, I’d be the one the audience is rooting for.   _

 

_ I just had to stop and think for a moment.  How crazy is it that I’m worried about him someday reading this and having his feelings hurt?  Oh, Lord. I’ve gotta get out of here soon. _

 

The sound of his door opening brought him out of his thoughts.  He closed the journal and tucked it into the desk. “Hi, Hannibal.”

 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said, carrying in a tray.  “Are you hungry?”

 

“A bit,” Will admitted.  His mouth watered at the aromas wafting from the tray.  “What’s for lunch today?”

 

“Something simple,” Hannibal told him.  “A chicken, broccoli, and cheddar rice casserole, a spinach salad with walnuts, and a small berry trifle.”

 

Berry trifle, with whipped cream and pound cake and berry topping that Will knew Hannibal would have made himself.  Yep, Hannibal was feeling guilty. “Sounds wonderful; thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, Will.”

 

“How are my dogs?”

 

Hannibal looked as if he wished Will had asked any other question but that.  “They’ve been trying my patience all morning, so I turned on Animal Planet and left them in the TV room before I came upstairs.”

 

Will tried hard not to laugh as Hannibal put the tray down on the desk.  “Yeah, I do that sometimes for them, especially if I’m going to be gone a lot.  They love the cat shows.”

 

Hannibal paused and thought, his eyes betraying his misgivings.  “And what about the dog shows?”

 

“They love those, too.”

 

“Are there any they don’t like?”

 

“They get bored during nature documentaries, so they start to look for something else to do.  You might want to put up the throw pillows.”

 

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Hannibal said, clapping a hand to his shoulder.  “Enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you later.”

 

Will ate, opening up a novel and reading while he did so.  Everything tasted wonderful. Once again, Will wondered where Hannibal got his recipes.  Did they all come from the cookbooks downstairs? Had he picked some up somewhere else? Will made a mental note to ask him.  

 

He’d finished his lunch and was well into the novel when Hannibal returned to collect the tray.  “You should be lying down, Will.”

 

Will looked up from his book.  “Huh?”

 

“It’s time for your afternoon rest.”

 

Will couldn’t believe it.  “My  _ rest _ ?  I’ve been resting all morning!”

 

“Not really,” Hannibal told him.  “You’ve been doing things; I know you have.  I’d like you to lie down, now. In an hour, I’ll return to let you know you can get up.”

 

Will felt his impatience gnaw at him.  “There’s no point to it, you know. I don’t sleep.”

 

“You don’t have to sleep; you just have to lie down.  This is your last chance to do so on your own before I decide to help you.”

 

The clincher was that Will knew Hannibal could do it.  Will didn’t know what kind of workout Hannibal did (although he suspected swimming might be part of it), but it had given his frame a lot of strength.

 

Hannibal could see Will thinking about it.  “Let me put it this way, Will: if you don’t lie down on your own, then I will pick you up bodily and tuck you into bed myself.  Once I have, I’ll sit with you until you drop off and actually take a nap. I might even sing you a lullaby and pat your back to lull you to sleep, the same way I would lull my sister to sleep when she was over-tired.”

 

Will stared at him.  What...the...actual...hell?

 

“I think part of you is ready to scramble to your bed and lie down just to avoid my doing that for you,” Hannibal said, looking carefully at Will.  “I think another part of you wants to persist in being stubborn so I’ll do just what I promised. The first part of you is afraid that you’ll enjoy it, so you’ll do what you’re told to avoid it, because you’re wary of enjoying anything I give you since I am your captor.  The second part of you knows subconsciously that you  _ would _ enjoy it and wants to behave in a manner that will ensure you’ll have it, even if you can’t admit such a thing to yourself.”

 

Will’s throat went dry and he couldn’t answer.  At least Hannibal was right that he could never admit it to himself, even if he were aware of the feeling.  Right now, his feelings were so mixed up that he didn’t know what he was feeling.

 

“Feeling the way you do about it is nothing to be ashamed of, Will,” Hannibal told him, his tone and expression softening.  “Emotions are hard enough to keep track of during our day-to-day lives, and you’re in extraordinary circumstances. Your emotions must go back and forth quite a bit each day you’re in my company.”

 

“Back and forth would be an understatement,” Will croaked, feeling his insides shake.  “It’s more like they’re on the world’s most extreme roller-coaster and the ride never ends.”  He paused, thought a bit, and took his courage in both hands in a death grip. “As a psychiatrist, what would be your opinion of me?”

 

“That would take some time to tell you fully, Will, and I would prefer not to avoid our present situation.  What I will tell you right now is that everyone, you included, craves affection and comforting from time to time, and that there is nothing wrong with yearning after them.  I can tell you’ve been feeling that way for a long time, perhaps years. There’s also nothing wrong in accepting them if they are offered to you, even from someone whose company you’re forced to bear.”

 

It felt as if a knot tied deep inside him loosened and untied itself, and the next thing Will knew, he was fighting back tears.  He lost the battle quickly and let them fall, crying quietly in his chair. Hannibal did not go to him to offer comfort, but he did go to Will’s closet and brought him a handkerchief.  Will took it and buried his face in it, trying to collect himself. What the hell was wrong with him? Just a few words and he was blubbering like an idiot--the FBI would be so proud, wouldn’t they?  All that training and this was the best he could do after just some words from his captor. Another part of his brain tried to remind him that a great deal of stress over a prolonged period made it easy to lose control from time to time, but the rest of his brain didn’t want to hear it.

 

Hannibal stood there, not touching him, and not speaking.  After a few minutes Will couldn’t stand it any longer. “If you’re still offering, I’ll take some of that comfort now, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal stepped closer, leaned Will against his chest, and wrapped his arms around him.  “It’s all right, Will. I’m here.”

 

The words and the tone in which they were said made Will cry harder, and it was a few very difficult minutes for Will, crying on his captor’s chest while said captor held him and rocked him gently back and forth, gently shushing him from time to time.

 

He shouldn’t have felt comforted.  He should have felt freaked out beyond belief and wanting to get away, but he didn’t move.  He focused on the arms around him, the sound of Hannibal’s voice, the shushing sounds he was making, and the warmth of his chest and the heartbeat in it.  Slowly, his body relaxed and the tears eased. Hannibal held onto him until Will moved away on his own and wiped his face with the handkerchief. “Better?”

 

Will nodded.  “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

“You’re very welcome, Will.  I’m glad you feel better.”

 

Will tucked the handkerchief in his pocket.  “Me, too. I think I’m ready for that nap, now.”

 

“Emoting can be tiring,” Hannibal agreed.  “Why don’t you lie down, and when you get up I’ll bring you a hot drink.”

 

Will nodded and toed off his shoes.  “Sounds nice.” Despite being dressed, Will crawled under the comforter and settled into the pillows.  Hannibal patted his shoulder through the comforter and left after closing the blinds to darken the room.

 

Will lay in the dim room and let his mind drift, not thinking of anything.  If he tried, he was sure that he would wind up as a giant ball of anxiety, so he didn’t try.  He was too tired for any of that. He was deep in sleep when Hannibal checked on him an hour later, and he didn’t hear when Hannibal closed the door again.  Half-an-hour later Will felt a hand on his shoulder. “Will?”

 

Will shifted under the comforter and stretched.  “Hmmm?”

 

“Time to wake up.”

 

Will’s eyes opened.  “I slept?”

 

“An hour and a half,” Hannibal told him while Will sat up.  “You didn’t even move when I came to tell you the hour was over, so I thought you could use a little more time to rest.  How do you feel?”

 

Will leaned back against the pillows and smiled, still sleepy.  “Rested.”

 

“That’s good,” Hannibal said with a smile as he handed Will a mug.  “Here you are--hot apple cider with cinnamon.”

 

Will took the mug and sipped it.  “Thank you.”

 

Hannibal brought a chair over to Will’s bed and sat down.  “You’re welcome.”

 

He sat with Will while Will sipped the hot drink, remarking on what Will’s dogs had been up to that day and what he, Hannibal, had been doing.  When asked, Will shared what he’d been doing, and by the time the cider was gone, Will had almost forgotten all about his little breakdown.

 

“Do you think you can stand another day in your room?” Hannibal asked as Will set the empty mug on the nightstand.

 

Will shrugged.  “What’s one more day?  I’m just worried how my dogs are going to handle it.”

 

“They’ll be returned to you this evening after dinner,” Hannibal promised him.  “That should hold them over, shouldn’t it?”

 

“You don’t have much experience with dogs, do you?”

 

“My expertise runs more toward horses, actually.”

 

“If you want to keep them from driving you batty, pet them and play fetch with them,” Will advised.  “If you wear them out, they’ll nap and you’ll get a break.”

 

“They sound like children.”

 

Will nodded.  “Yeah, they can be very toddler-like, sometimes.”

 

Hannibal appeared to think about it and smiled.  “I’ll keep your advice in mind, Will. Now, what do you plan on doing for the rest of the afternoon?”

 

“I was thinking a jigsaw puzzle,” Will said, looking over at the shelf that held the puzzles.  “One of the big ones.”

 

“I hope you enjoy it,” Hannibal told him, patting his shoulder and picking up the empty mug.  “I’ll check on you in a little bit, all right?”

 

It looked like the punishment was going to stand.  Ah, well. “All right.”

 

Will got out of bed and stretched as Hannibal left, and Will headed to the shelves for a puzzle.  He found one that had five hundred pieces, so he dumped it out on the table and started looking for the edge pieces and corner pieces.  The picture on the box was a of an old, used-book shop, and there were tons of tiny details that proved the puzzle was going to be a challenge.  Will spent a few hours putting it together and he was trying to find a piece with part of a blue book on it when Hannibal arrived with his dinner.

 

“Goodness,” Hannibal said, staring at the puzzle.  “You’ve been busy.” 

 

“Almost done,” Will said, peering carefully at the unattached pieces.  He looked away from them once the aroma of his dinner reached him. “That smells delicious.”

 

“I hope you enjoy it,” Hannibal said, placing the tray on Will’s desk, away from the plethora of puzzle pieces.  “You have chicken cordon-bleu and pan-roasted vegetables, and a lemon panna cotta for dessert.”

 

Will felt his mouth water and abandoned the puzzle.  “Thank you.”

 

“Bon appetit, Will.  I’ll be back up later for your tray.”

 

Once Hannibal was gone, Will dug in, and he had to groan at the taste of the chicken.  It was incredible. How did one human being have so much talent in so many things? It staggered the imagination.  He ate slowly, enjoying every bit of the chicken and vegetables and then he started on the panna cotta. The lemon taste made him think of summertime and he leaned back in his chair to linger over it.  It was far too good to eat quickly or in big bites.

 

It was a while before Hannibal returned for his tray, so Will filled the half-hour or so by finishing the puzzle and then putting it away.  He heard the clatter of claws on hardwood and Hannibal opened his door to admit his pack. They swarmed him, barking, wagging tails, and trying to lick him to death, and Will spent a few minutes being mobbed by them and doing his best to pet all of them at once.  He spent the next few hours playing fetch with them and wrestling with them until Hannibal arrived to take them out one last time. Will got ready for bed while Hannibal was doing that and when they all returned, Will was already in bed and waiting for his bedmates.

 

“I’m amazed that your comforter is still so clean,” Hannibal said as the dogs settled themselves.

 

“They wipe their paws before they come indoors; haven’t you ever seen them do that?” Will joked as Hannibal pulled a chair over to Will’s bed and sat down.  “What’s this?”

 

“You may be confined to your room, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up reading together before you go to sleep,” Hannibal answered.  “Have you ever read  _ Bleak House _ , Will?”

 

Will shook his head.  “No. The book I was required to read in school was  _ Great Expectations _ .”

 

Hannibal nodded.  “I think you’ll like this one.  Bleak House, Chapter One, In Chancery.  London. Michaelmas term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall.  Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth…”

 

Will sank back into his pillows, listening.  For some reason, he felt perfectly happy in that moment, felt he should be concerned by it, and then decided that it didn’t matter.  


	17. Chapter 17

Hannibal was very nice to Will in the two weeks following his escape attempt and confinement to his room. Hannibal made all of his favorite dishes in the days following Will’s release and Will knew why, too: Hannibal felt guilty as hell over what he’d done to Will. Occasionally Will could see Hannibal sneaking little glances at him when he felt Will wouldn’t notice, and he could see the concern and worry in Hannibal’s eyes, but Will wasn’t about to do or say anything that would make Hannibal feel any better about things. The only comfort Will was willing to give Hannibal was eating the food he made, and that was it.

Hannibal didn’t always serve meals in the dining room, though. One night Will went down to dinner and found the dining room and kitchen empty, but he’d smelled food cooking. Perplexed, he wandered about and found Hannibal in the conservatory, plating an old-fashioned Italian dinner on a table there, complete with music playing and a candle in a bottle. Hannibal’s dismay at being caught before he was ready made Will laugh, but he quickly forgot about it as Will sat down and asked him to pass the garlic bread. Another special dinner was served in the TV room. A blanket had been spread on the floor and dinner consisted of plates of finger foods, tiny, bite-size desserts, and chilled white wine. This time, Hannibal was ready for Will as he walked in. “Ready for dinner and show, Will?” It had been a fun night, and interesting, too. They watched The Maltese Falcon and Will nibbled and sipped at his wine while Sam Spade investigated murder and conspiracy.

The most interesting change, though, was the fact that Hannibal called Will to the kitchen one day around four o’clock and said, “How would you like to make dinner tonight, Will?”

Will stared at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, nodding. “There are plenty of ingredients; you may make whatever you fancy, and I’ll help with the dishes tonight after we eat. What do you say?”

Given how uncomfortable Hannibal had seemed when Will had requested to be allowed to make some meals before, Will was surprised. “I say yes,” he said after a moment of thinking. “This is going to be fun.”

“What will you be making?”

Will held up a finger in front of his lips. “Now, that’s a secret. You’ll find out at dinner time, and no sneaking into the kitchen to peek, all right?”

Hannibal’s expression was clearly worried, but he nodded and left the kitchen. Will began opening the fridge and cupboards to see what was available and grinned. Two packages of ground beef, potatoes, lettuce and tomato, four types of cheese, fish, shrimp, bacon, sausage, beef steaks, peppers, bags of different kinds of rice, rolls and bread...the choices went on and on. He could make jambalaya, or he could make beef stew with biscuits, or...another option occurred to him and he felt his grin widen. He knew what he would make and it would be fabulous. Will washed his hands and got to work.

If Hannibal had given up his kitchen in an effort to make up for what he’d done to Will, then he was clearly feeling very guilty and was hoping for forgiveness. Well, Will was going to make him work for it. He wasn’t just going to eat what Will made, he would eat it and like it, whether he wanted to or not.

Will set the table himself so Hannibal couldn’t sneak a peek at dinner when he came into the kitchen to get the flatware and silverware, Will plated the food himself and placed it on the table, and he called Hannibal.

Will listened to Hannibal’s footsteps as he approached. Was that trepidation he was hearing? He hoped so.

“Hello,” Will said happily as Hannibal reached the doorway of the dining room. “For dinner tonight we have mushroom-swiss burgers, french fries, and milkshakes.”

Hannibal stared at it all while Will put bottles of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise on the table and took his seat. He’d been surprised to find ready-made items in Hannibal’s pantry, but they had been rather far back in the pantry and behind some boxes of gourmet crackers. It was likely Hannibal had thought that they’d never be found. Hannibal sat down in his chair and studied his plate. “You’ve been very busy, Will.”

“I wanted to make something I haven’t had for a while,” Will confessed, squeezing some ketchup onto his plate for his fries. “Ketchup?”

Will could tell it was the most plebeian meal Hannibal had had for some time and he enjoyed watching Hannibal out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Like Will, Hannibal deposited some ketchup on his plate and when offered it, he added mustard. He poked the resulting blob with a fry and ate it in three bites, but he looked as if he were being tortured. The taste hit him, and Will could tell he thought it tasted good, but at the same time, he looked appalled that he liked it. Even better was Hannibal’s reaction to the burger. He took a single bite, chewed, his eyebrows went up, and a smile quirked his lips, which was quickly hidden.

It took all of Will’s self-control not to laugh like a loon. “Like it?”

Will could see Hannibal gather himself. “It’s very good.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Will noticed that Hannibal did not take a sip of his milkshake until almost the end of the meal, and when he did, he looked as if he wished he didn’t like it.

“How is it?” Will asked as soon as Hannibal put the glass down.

“I think that’s only the second time I’ve been given a dessert disguised as a beverage.”

Will tried hard not to laugh. “What was the first time?”

“I was about six years old and refusing to swallow anything since my throat hurt. My nurse mixed up some sugar and milk and some flavoring and presented it to me. It was the first thing I’d swallowed in two days and it tasted just like this.”

“A good memory?” Will asked, seeing a tiny smile on Hannibal’s face.

“A slightly mortifying one, since I had to be coaxed quite a bit to drink it--I was a very willful child at times.”

“You know, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Other nice things Hannibal did for him were varied and, well, rather nice. Hannibal spent an entire evening reading aloud to Will simply because Will wanted to hear more about Bleak House. He spent several hours one afternoon sitting and talking with Will about fishing and tying flies. One morning, he went out with Will and the dogs, walking for a couple of hours and playing games with Will and his dogs. 

Some kindnesses were not so big or overt. Hannibal would touch him on the shoulder or elbow or arm, and once when Will made a joke, Hannibal laughed and ruffled his hair. The action made Will feel a bit like a child who had done something to amuse his fond parent. As the days went by, Will noticed that these small acts of affection continued, and oddly enough, he didn’t mind them too much. Some part of his brain was screaming at him that this was his kidnapper and that he shouldn’t allow him to do such things, but he just didn’t have the energy to protest. Besides, it was likely that Hannibal wouldn’t stop even if Will protested. It wasn’t like his protests about things had changed much of anything.

Will got a surprise early one morning. He could tell as soon as he opened his eyes that snow had fallen the night before, and when he looked outside he saw that the ground and trees outside were covered with at least a foot of snow. All of his dogs loved playing in snow, so Will threw on some clothes and hurried to take them outside. He barely caught a glimpse of Hannibal working in the kitchen before he was outside, bundled up in his parka and boots. He pulled on his gloves and started making snowballs for the dogs to chase, enjoying the crip bite of the air. He’d just thrown another snowball for his dogs when he felt a snowball whack him in the middle of his back. Surprised, he turned around and found himself facing Hannibal, who was grinning and rolling another snowball. Will ducked to scoop up some snow and soon he and Hannibal were exchanging fire, ducking around the corners of the house or behind bushes for cover. They kept up a snowball barrage until Hannibal called a halt to it.

“Having fun?” Hannibal asked, still grinning.

Will nodded, grinning in echo to Hannibal’s grin. “You’re pretty good at snowball fights. Does Lithuania have cold winters?”

“It does, yes,” Hannibal said. “We’d have some pretty heavy snowfall sometimes, and then a thaw, and then more snow. When I was small, my sister and I would play outside in the snow, making snow people and having snowball fights, and we’d go sledding. Have you been sledding, Will?”

“Once or twice,” Will said, thinking about some uncharacteristic cold snaps he’d experienced as a kid. His sleds had been flattened cardboard boxes, but it had still been fun. 

“How would you like to go sledding?”

“You have a sled?”

“In the garage. Wait here while I get it.”

Within five minutes, Hannibal was back, lugging a large toboggan with him. There was plenty of space for two people on the sled, and soon they were at the top of the highest point of the grounds, sitting on the sled and pushing off. Will’s dogs bounded along after them, barking, enjoying the spectacle of their human riding on the snow. Will couldn’t help whooping as they shot down the hill, and he held on for dear life to Hannibal. Two more times up and down the hill and Hannibal suggested that Will take the sled down on his own. “That’s okay?” Will asked, surprised that Hannibal would let him do that. 

“Of course,” Hannibal assured him. “You’ll go a bit faster since I’m not on the sled, but you should have no problem.”

Will took his seat on the sled, pushed off, and had one of the best rides of his life down the hill. The cold air brought tears to his eyes as he rushed down the slope, but he was grinning the whole time. Once the sled coasted to a stop, he scrambled off it and headed back up the hill, determined to go again. He got back up to the top, sat down, pushed off, and shot down the hill. At some point, though, the sled started to go much too fast, and it went further than it had the first time. Will felt it strike something under the snow, and he went flying, landing a good five feet from the toboggan. Wincing, he picked himself up from the snow and two seconds later Hannibal reached him.

“Will! Are you all right? Did you hit your head?”

“Yes, and no,” Will said, brushing off some of the snow that covered him. “A little winded, that’s all.” He stood up straight and took a step, and then his whole body protested the movement. “Little stiff, actually.”

Hannibal checked his range of motion. “I think we might have to call a halt to the sledding for right now, Will. Let’s go in and warm up and see to those strained muscles, all right?”

They ate breakfast in front of the fire once the dogs had been dried off and given their breakfast, and then Will went upstairs to have a very hot bath. His back and shoulders and neck still felt stiff afterwards, as did his legs, so Hannibal offered a massage.

“A what?” Will asked, certain that he hadn’t heard correctly.

“I do have massage training for pain relief and restoring range of motion,” Hannibal assured him. “I promise that it will help how you’re feeling.”

“Will it help with the tension headache I’m getting?” 

“Certainly.”

Will considered it. He knew that Hannibal loved to be able to touch him, if only to get Will used to it, but would this encourage something in Hannibal that it would be dangerous to encourage? Would Hannibal misread this as a sign that Will was willing to accept him? 

A twinge from his shoulders decided him. If this wasn’t taken care of now, he might be in for some serious pain later. “Okay. How...I mean, what does it entail?”

“Your room will probably be the best place to do this,” Hannibal said thoughtfully. “Go upstairs and strip down to your boxers while I get the equipment ready. Wrap up in your robe to stay warm, all right?”

“My...boxers?”

“You can’t be massaged fully dressed, Will,” Hannibal told him. “Go on, now.”

Hannibal’s business-like tone reassured him, and Will did as he was told. If Hannibal were planning to take advantage of him, Will knew he would have tried to be...well, a little more romantic. No, this was Hannibal-the-doctor, not Hannibal-the-intimacy-seeking-stalker-turned kidnapper, talking. His concern was all for Will’s physical well-being.

Hannibal brought up a padded table, towels, and a full caddy of all sorts of items that Will had no name for. Hannibal unfolded and covered the table with some sheets, placed the towels in the towel warmer in the bathroom, and invited Will to lie down on his stomach. Shortly Hannibal had the robe open and turned down over Will’s waist, and his back and shoulders were being massaged. 

What followed was an incredible hour and a half of pure, physical bliss. Will had only ever had massages during physical therapy appointments and they’d been just more discomfort than anything else, but this was fabulous. Hannibal massaged his back, shoulders, neck, head, then his feet, calves, and knees, before returning to his back, shoulders, arms, hands, and then Will’s face. Heated stones on his back helped ease knots of tension, and the warmed towels helped keep him toasty and comfortable.

“Does anything hurt?” Hannibal asked, massaging the points on either side of his neck where it met his shoulders.

“Mmmnn, no,” Will managed. “Feels great.”

“What does?”

“Everything.”

A chuckle. “That’s good. I think you would benefit from some chiropractic adjustment or acupuncture, Will.”

Will’s eyes opened. “Don’t tell me you’re able to do that, too.”

“I’ve not the skills for either, I’m afraid, but I’ll see if I can arrange something for you.”

Will tried to wrap his mind around how Hannibal would manage that. “I’m not sure how I’d feel about someone cracking my bones or sticking needles in me.”

“Both can actually be very therapeutic, Will.”

“Let me think about it,” Will said, before Hannibal could start making those arrangements. “If I want either done, I’ll let you know.”

“All right.”

After the massage Will actually wanted a nap, but Hannibal made him drink some water before he let Will lay down, saying that his body would need it. Will drank the water obediently and crash-landed into his bed, still wrapped in his robe and a warmed towel. He woke up in time for lunch and spent the rest of the day feeling absolutely sensational. If he ever hurt himself again, he’d be more than ready to ask for a massage.

One morning at breakfast about a week later, Hannibal was sitting at the table when Will came down, and he was looking at a newspaper. Will never saw the newspapers being delivered, but Hannibal had had newspapers a few times, despite being so far from town.

“Interesting headlines?” Will asked as he took his seat and reached for his coffee.

“A few,” Hannibal admitted, quickly folding the paper and setting it aside. 

“Can I see?”

“How about after breakfast?”

“Okay.”

Will ate the sausage and cheese omelette and the cinnamon bread spread with apple butter, and once his plate was empty, Hannibal handed him the newspaper. Will opened it up and looked through it. There were a few interesting headlines and Will made a mental note that the paper was from Maryland. Could they possibly be that close to home? 

His eyes landed on the movie times and he sat up straighter.

Hannibal noticed. “Something wrong, Will?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I just saw that a movie I’ve been wanting to see is playing now.”

“You like going to the cinema?”

“Occasionally, yeah.” A thought occurred to him. “Could we go?”

He’d never seen Hannibal look so surprised. “Go?”

“Yeah, to see a movie,” Will said, feeling a bit more enthusiastic. “I promise; I’ll stay with you the whole time!” Part of his mind couldn’t believe he was pleading like a little kid, but this was a perfect opportunity to see just how far from home Hannibal was willing to take him.

Hannibal held his hand out for the paper and Will gave it to him. “Which movie did you want to see?”

Will pointed it out. “That one.”

Hannibal examined the title and appeared to think. “Hmmm. We would have to leave the house immediately after lunch...What about your rest?”

“I can sleep in the car,” Will promised, unwilling to let such a thing as his rest stop them from going.

Hannibal appeared to consider it. “I’ll need some time to figure out the logistics, Will. Give me an hour, all right?”

That hour was the longest span of time Will had passed in recent years, but at last Hannibal came to his room. “Will?”

Will looked up from his pack of dogs. “Hi.”

“Still want to see that movie?”

Will grinned. “Oh, yeah.” Then a thought occurred to him. “I won’t have to be Warren, will I?”

Hannibal chuckled. “No. We’ll leave immediately after lunch, all right?”

Hannibal didn’t see Will punch the air as he turned to go, but Will was quietly ecstatic for a few minutes. They were going out!

He had trouble settling to anything for the rest of the morning, and lunch seemed to take a small eternity. Hannibal surprised Will by actually putting the dishes in the dishwasher instead of doing them by hand, and Will took the dogs for a short run while Hannibal was occupied. Once the dogs were back in Will’s room, Hannibal took him to the garage and unlocked the car.

“So, what’s this movie about?” Hannibal asked once he and Will were belted in and headed down the driveway.

“It’s a conspiracy thriller,” Will said happily, looking forward to it. “A guy ends up being an unwitting participant in an experiment that gives him superpowers, and since he was their only success, the evil organization responsible for the experiment pursues him, and he has to find a way to escape them.”

Hannibal glanced at him as they reached the gate. “Really?”

The incredulity in Hannibal’s voice was vastly amusing. “Really! I can’t wait!”

The expression on Hannibal’s face said, Well, I can’t back out of this now. They drove an hour and a half to a large town, and they pulled into the cinema parking lot. Will filed the name of the town away in his mental file. Hannibal parked the car and switched off the ignition. “All right, let’s discuss rules, shall we?”

“Okay,” Will said, wishing Hannibal would get through them quickly. “Actually, let’s save some time. I’m not to leave your side, I’m not to draw attention to myself or try to tell anyone that I’m a kidnapping victim--was that it?”

“In a nutshell,” Hannibal said, sounding amused. “You’re really excited about this movie, aren’t you?”

“I read the book two years ago, and it’s been one of my favorites ever since,” Will admitted. “Can we go in now?”

They got their tickets and then they were inside. Will felt his mouth water as soon as the smell of popcorn hit him. “Could we get some popcorn? And soda?”

Hannibal stared at him. “Popcorn?”

“That’s what you get when you go to the movies!” Will persisted. “Please?”

Hannibal fought down a laugh and agreed to the popcorn and soda, and soon they were in their seats, and the opening credits were rolling. The director for the movie was a good one, and the actor was one of Hollywood’s lesser-known leading men, but in Will’s mind, he was perfect for the role. Will sat there, nibbling on popcorn and sipping soda, but he almost forgot all about them once the action picked up. He was held spellbound in his seat for most of the movie, and the final chase scene was a white-knuckle, edge-of-your-seat ride that had him holding on for dear life. 

The final credits were rolling when Will snapped out of the movie’s spell. “Oh, that was awesome!” Will said happily. “I really hope they do a sequel!”

“Is there more to the story?” Hannibal asked, handing Will his coat. 

“There’s three books in the series so far, and I think each of them would make a great movie.”

Will chattered away happily with Hannibal while they drove back, and before they reached the house, Will managed to get Hannibal to admit that yes, he had enjoyed watching the film. They pulled into the garage and as Will got out of the car, he tripped. A second later he was picking himself up, assuring Hannibal that he wasn’t hurt, and followed Hannibal obediently into the kitchen to fix dinner, his thoughts whirling. 

He’d spotted it behind the toboggan, and it was the tidbit of knowledge that had been bopping around in his head for a while--ever since Hannibal had broken his window to get to him when Will had been on his hunger strike.

Hannibal had a ladder, and it was in the garage.


	18. Chapter 18

Will knew his plan would not be easy to execute.  Hannibal had been keeping the garage locked ever since Will’s escape attempt using Hannibal’s car, and he was ultra-vigilant whenever they were in the garage.  Will knew it would not be easy for him to get into the garage and get to that ladder, much less lug it across the grounds to the wall. It would be even more difficult to get his dogs over the ladder and safely on the other side.  He would have to be patient and play a long game until the opportunity to escape presented itself.

 

After they went to the movies, they settled down to a peaceful few days.  Will ate his meals, helped clean up after them, spent time in his room amusing himself, taking long walks with his dogs, and spent the evenings talking or spending time with Hannibal.  He slept when he was tired (he even took a few naps during his rest time, which surprised both him and Hannibal), ate when he was hungry, and relaxed.

 

It was like a vacation from adulthood, Will noted.  He didn’t have to worry about anything. Even as a kid he’d worried about whether the rent was going to be paid or if there would be enough money to last them through to payday, but right now, he didn’t have to worry about that.  He had a roof over his head, a comfortable bed to sleep in, no bills to pay, three hot meals a day, and all the time in the world to do as he pleased. If it weren’t for the fact that he was a kidnapping victim, Will would have felt as if he were finally taking that well-earned vacation Jack kept promising him!

 

That fact was the clincher.  Hannibal was his captor. He couldn’t afford to forget that.  Hannibal seemed very stable for a...whatever he was, but Will knew that every intimacy-seeking stalker who kidnapped their victims was not a safe person to be around.  The odd thing, though, was that Hannibal didn’t give off any of the vibes similar to those particular individuals that Will had met in the past. There was no sense of hypervigilance or urgency about Hannibal.  He seemed content just to hold Will there, and that was all.

 

This case would be one for the textbooks, that was for certain.

 

During a cold, clear day a week after they’d gone to the movies, Will got a surprise when he woke up an hour after breakfast.  Usually, if he was late in going down to breakfast, then Hannibal would be up to wake him. Still feeling groggy from sleeping so much, Will got up, showered, dressed, and took his dogs downstairs so they could go outside.  The kitchen and dining room were oddly quiet as he passed them, but he figured Hannibal was somewhere else in the house, most likely his study. Oh, well. 

 

The dogs did their business, ran around, and then barrelled back to the house when Will whistled for them.  Will went inside, divested himself of his coat, and headed towards the dining room. He doubted Hannibal had waited for him to eat his own breakfast, but it was likely that he’d left something for Will.  Hannibal would never let a chance to feed him go by. 

 

There was a plate with a silver cover over it on the table, and an envelope sitting next to it, addressed to him in Hannibal’s elegant handwriting.  He still wondered just how Hannibal had such incredible handwriting. Curious, he opened the note.

 

_ Dear Will, _

 

_ As I’m sure you’re aware, Buster is missing. _

 

Will nearly dropped the note in shock and frantically looked at his dogs.  One, two, three, four, five, six...yes, Buster was gone. What the  _ hell _ ?  Frightened now and a great deal more awake, Will turned back to the note.

 

_ Please do not be alarmed, he is in good hands with me.  I find that I have to be away from you for today, and Chiyoh is unable to come and keep you company while I am gone, so I felt this was the best way to ensure that you would still be there when I returned.  I will take good care of Buster while we’re away, so please do not worry.  _

 

_ I have already prepared your meals for today for you, as well as some snacks, if you require them.  You are to follow the same routine we follow for meals, and please make sure you eat at least a good portion of your meals.  I realize your worry over Buster may make this difficult, but please endeavor to do so.  _

 

_ I have also left some things for you to do if you feel time hanging heavily on your hands.  It is Saturday, after all, so housework may help you stave off boredom. The next page has a list of items that need doing.  They are not obligatory, but it may be better for you if you have something to keep you busy. _

 

_ You will adhere to your regular schedule as much as possible, and that means you will have a rest after lunch.  I will know if you do not.  _

 

_ Try to enjoy your day, Will.  You are to go to bed at your usual time.  I will be back sometime after midnight, so I will see you in the morning. _

 

_ Have a pleasant day, and try not to worry. _

 

_ Hannibal _

 

“What...the...hell?” Will groaned, dropping the note on top of the covered plate.  Here it was, the perfect chance to escape, and he couldn’t. Not if he wanted his dog back.

 

That utter  _ bastard _ .   

 

Knowing Hannibal would find out if Will chucked his breakfast in the garbage, Will uncovered the plate to eat some of it.  There was Eggs Benedict on his plate, along with some fruit salad. Furious that the meal was something he liked, Will cut into the eggs and ate everything…resentfully.  Once he was finished eating, Will cleared his place at the table, did the dishes, set them out to dry, and returned to the damned note. The list was on the next page, just like Hannibal had said.

 

_ \--Sweep and damp mop the floors and hallways. _

_ \--Vacuum the carpets. _

_ \--Wipe down the windows and mirrors in the house. _

_ \--Wipe down the surfaces in the kitchen. _

_ \--Use a soft rag and some wood polish on the furniture in the dining room. _

_ \--Do the same for each of the doors and the other woodwork in the house. _

_ \--Feed the koi and run the net through their pond. _

_ \--Take down the curtains in each room, bundle them into the cloth bag in the cleaning closet, and replace them with the clean curtains in the linen closet.  Steam out any wrinkles using the steamer, if necessary. _

_ \--Dust the shelves and knick-knacks. _

_ \--Tidy your room--and your closet. _

 

Will winced at that last one.  For the last couple of days, he’d just thrown things into his closet rather than put them away properly.  It looked like Hannibal had found out. Sighing, Will headed to the cleaning closet. He needed to keep himself busy, or he’d spend the whole day fretting over Buster.  Where the hell did Hannibal have to be? Most kidnappers preferred to keep rigid control over their victims, and rigid control did NOT mean a day out unless there was a more secure method to keep their victims quiescent.  Will thought about it as he opened the closet. Perhaps Hannibal felt that taking Buster was the best insurance he could have, which, now that Will actually stopped and considered it, was true. He knew how much Will loved his dogs and how he felt responsible for them.  Buster was the smallest dog and easiest for Hannibal to care for, so he was the logical one to take. No, Hannibal knew that Will would behave while he was gone if he took one of Will’s dogs with him. By bringing Will his dogs, Hannibal had ensured that he had seven fluffy hostages at his disposal.

 

Will grabbed the broom and dustpan from the closet, slammed the door, and started sweeping the floors wrathfully.  He damp-mopped with a vengeance, and then descended upon the windows and mirrors like a ravaging horde. The kitchen was under attack shortly after that, and Will progressed through the house with a massive chip on his shoulder, cleaning as if he could scrub Hannibal’s presence out of the house.  By lunchtime he’d worked his way through most of the list, and he stormed into the kitchen to heat up and have his lunch. 

 

Will could see that Hannibal had prepared a day’s menu heavy on comfort food.  For lunch he had ham, broccoli and carrots, and scalloped potatoes, as well as a small peach cobbler for dessert.  The container labeled dinner had beef stroganoff with mushrooms and shredded greens on the side, and a smaller container held his dessert--a single-serving lemon pie.  When had Hannibal made all this stuff?

 

Will put the dishes into the oven to warm according to the directions Hannibal had left on the counter and headed back to his cleaning.  When the timer went off he retrieved the dishes, and in defiance of what Hannibal thought a proper meal should be, Will ate right from the baking dish standing at the kitchen counter.  He finished his meal, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and took his dogs out for a short run. Once they were back inside, Will’s feet turned in the direction of the staircase, but he froze.  Why the hell did he feel the ridiculous impulse to go upstairs and lie down?

 

Will paused and thought about it.  He was used to following the schedule Hannibal had devised for him, that was certain.  That didn’t mean that he had to follow the schedule when Hannibal wasn’t around. In fact, he felt rather good at not obeying that damn edict that he have an afternoon rest.  He could do whatever the hell he wanted right now, and there was nothing Hannibal could do to stop him. Grinning, he headed toward the television room. He was going to watch as much crap television as he wanted for the next hour, and he was so gleeful at getting away with it that he practically skipped down the hallway.

 

_ I will know if you do not have your rest, Will. _

 

Will froze at the sign on the door.  How..the...hell…? “Damn it! How the hell does he  _ do _ this?”

 

His dogs looked at him in confusion , but their tails wagged as Will whipped around and stomped down the hallway and up the stairs.  _  I wish I was wearing cleats _ , Will thought, the glossy finish of the stairs mocking him.   _ It’d serve Hannibal right to have to get his stairs refinished, that manipulative, kidnapping bastard.  _

 

Will slammed into his room, kicked his shoes off his feet, and dove onto his bed.  Hannibal had said he could read if he wanted, so he picked up a handy book and did his best to distract himself.  The hour ticked by slowly, and with three minutes left in the hour, Will got up, pulled on his shoes, and headed downstairs.  

 

He took his dogs out for a run, still wrestling with the massive irritation of Hannibal taking one of his pack hostage.  Feeling the rage surge again, Will grabbed a stick and hurled it with all his might. His dogs took one look and darted off after it, and Will spent the next hour throwing sticks, wearing himself out.  Feeling more like himself, Will whistled for his pack and headed back inside to make himself a hot drink. 

 

Once he’d finished his cup of tea, Will started on the curtains.  He found the bag, a stepladder, and quickly removed all the drapes and curtains and stuffed them in the bag, pretending he was stuffing Hannibal into the bag instead.  A few times he gave the bag a little kick. Once he’d finished taking down all the curtains, he lugged the bag back to the linen closet and shoved it back into its spot.  He found the replacement curtains and the steamer and started making his rounds of each room, replacing curtains and steaming out any wrinkles. Oddly enough, seeing something as innocuous as fabric wrinkles yielding under the steamer was strangely therapeutic.  Feeling less rage-filled, Will did the dusting and then went up to his room to tidy it and tackle his closet. Those tasks took him all the way to dinner-time, so he heated up his meal, fed his dogs, and sat down to dinner in the kitchen. He lingered over his dessert for a while before putting his dishes in the dishwasher and setting it to run, and then he headed to the television room.  He ignored the sign on the door and settled himself on the couch, and then he whistled for his dogs to join him in a pile of furry abandon. He channel-surfed for a while, then settled down on a police drama, and at ten o’clock, he took his dogs out for a final run.

 

He was halfway to the stairs to go to bed when he remembered that Hannibal wasn’t there.  He could stay up as late as he wanted--he could even stay up until Hannibal came back! There’d be no way Hannibal could stop him.  He could do whatever he wanted!

 

With that thought in mind, Will headed for Hannibal’s study.  Ten to one, Hannibal had most likely locked the door, but to his shock, it opened.  Grinning, Will headed to Hannibal’s desk and started searching for the journal. He found it in its usual spot and Will settled down in Hannibal’s desk chair, flipping through the book to find the spot where he’d left off.

 

_ I nearly committed murder last night. _

 

Will sat up, staring at the line, and then he checked the date.  1st January. Oh, the day after the New Year’s Eve party. Will turned his attention back to the journal, reassured that Hannibal didn’t mean him.

 

_ Will and I hosted a New Year’s Eve Party last night, and most of the town came.  Overall, I’d say it was a success, and most of it was quite lovely. Almost everyone complimented me on a lovely party, the beautiful decorations, and the wonderful refreshments.  It was with some pride that I shared that Will had helped me make a lot of them. Will was in his “Warren” persona to allay any suspicions, and despite stating that he didn’t enjoy parties, he seemed to enjoy himself.   _

 

_ I enjoyed having him there while I hosted a party.  I’d really enjoyed having him help me with the preparations!  Seeing him smile while he helped me put together the refreshments was ample reward for my patience with him.  I think he’s coming to enjoy my company. With any luck, he’ll admit it to himself, one of these days. _

 

_ The only blot on the whole affair was a horrific woman by the name of Heather Jenkins.  Despite Will’s persona as a blind man, she grabbed him and planted her mouth on his at midnight--I refuse to dignify that action with the name of ‘kiss’ since it was nothing more than a disgusting assault.  He pushed her away with far more consideration than she deserved and he left the room quickly. He did his best to hide it, but I could see that he was upset, and I saw red.  _

 

_ What I wanted most to do was go to my kitchen and fetch out the largest and sharpest knife I own, but instead I approached Ms. Jenkins and stated that it was time she leave and that I would not stand for having one of my guests treated in such a manner.  She huffed and protested, but she saw that I was immovable on the topic, and she left. I have been warned by Sally that Ms. Jenkins will most likely try to spread rumors in revenge, but I am not concerned. I shall allow my future actions and behavior be my defense against any scurrilous rumors she may create, and any teapot-tempest will surely die down.  Besides, I was far more concerned with Will. He’d looked disgusted and unsettled by what she’d done, and I wanted to make sure he was all right. _

 

_ I found him in the conservatory with Sally and her husband.  Sally had helped him remove the lipstick left behind by Ms. Jenkins and they were both doing their best to cheer Will back into a good humor.  Thank goodness they were there--if they had not been, I may have rushed to Will immediately and held him in an effort to reassure him. It was fortunate that I did not, since he may not have been ready for such a gesture so soon after Ms. Jenkin’s actions.  I asked if he was all right and let him know that Ms. Jenkins had departed, and once our guests were gone, I gave him the New Year’s gift I selected for him.  _

 

_ I could tell that he was pleased with the journal.  I’ve seen him glance at mine while I’ve been writing in it, and there was real interest in his glances.  He was most likely wishing he could read what I’ve written, but I’m sure that Will respects my privacy.  _

 

Will stopped reading.  There were two ways that the last statement could be taken.  The first was that it was Hannibal simply stating what the words meant.  The second was that Hannibal knew Will had been reading his journal, wished to wag his finger at him, and remind him not to read it.  Deciding to think about it, Will turned the page to read the next entry. He read about his escape and once he finished reading that part, he had to read it all again.

 

_ Will left.  I treated a child here at the house yesterday and when the family left, the gate failed to close.  What I went through when I saw that open gate and realized Will was gone was...it was some of the worst pain I’ve ever felt.  Only losing my sister in the way I did hurt worse. I fell to pieces right there in the driveway and wept like a child, but then my wits marshaled themselves, and I had the presence of mind to call Chiyoh.  Speaking to her and explaining the situation calmed me, and I was able to gather myself together and start searching for Will. I went one likely direction, and she went the other.  _

 

_ I received her text that she’d spotted him and I rushed to the meeting point she offered.  Will’s face when he saw me was...well, I was not expecting the amount of horror I saw there.  It was clear that he did not want to return with me, but he was given no choice in the matter.  I am more than a match for him, physically, and I had Chiyoh there to help me. He was silent through the car ride back home, but I knew he was crying silently the whole way. _

 

_ Hold in your mind the image of a tearful Will, and then think of a rabid dog gone insane, and you’ll know what I had in my hands once I got him out of the car.  I was never so surprised in my life, but he did best to break my kneecaps, and I would not have been surprised if he had bitten me. One too many kicks to my knees and I lost my temper.  I shoved him to sit on the bottom step, let him know that I was out of patience, and he was to sit there until I returned. Thank God and all His angels that he obeyed--if he had not, I don’t want to think what I might have done.  After I sent Will to his room I spent a good amount of time pacing and thinking and feeling like the lowest worm that ever crawled the earth. I brought Will here to care for him, and the first serious attempt on his part to leave, I lose control.  I’m sure I injured him when I shoved him onto that step, but--no. There is no excuse for hurting him.  _

 

Once again, Hannibal departed from known psychiatric parameters for their situation.  Captors would do anything to control their victims, and that included injuring them, and they always,  _ always _ , justified their actions.  Most often, the excuse would be, “I wouldn’t have done it, but they were trying to leave…”  Hannibal was an outlier, that was for certain. Will turned the page for the next entry.

 

_ Poor Will thought I was going to “do something” to him for leaving.  I told him at the beginning of his stay with me that any attempt to go would lead to a day of confinement in his room, but he was expecting something worse.  I could see nothing but despair and dread in his eyes when I went up to see him yesterday afternoon, and it was a challenge to reassure him that I wouldn’t do anything beyond the confinement.  It was clear that he was remembering all of the cases he’s worked on and their gruesome details. He’s calmer today, thank goodness. _

 

_ I am not.  Once again, I feel like a veritable worm.  I am no longer a doctor, no longer a psychiatrist...I am an annelid that crawls in the dirt.  When I brought Will here I told myself--and him!--that he was here to be cared for. Is confining him to his room and removing his dogs caring for him?  He seems calmer today and not so fearful, but what sort of effect is this having on his mental well-being? I’ve been telling myself since yesterday that if he’s not punished in the way I told him I would if he left the grounds, then there would be nothing stopping him from continuous escape attempts.  If I follow through with the punishment, then he’ll know what to expect and hopefully he’ll be deterred from future attempts. _

 

_ It’s some of the most basic psychology, proven over and over again in countless studies, but I feel like a worm for doing it. _

 

Will leaned back in the chair and fought down a grin.  Hannibal felt like a worm. Good. He turned the page and kept reading.  The next entries consisted of Hannibal frantically thinking of things he could do to make up for the confinement, and Will started wheezing with laughter when he found  Exotic Dancer???!!!   at the end of a page.  That was some guilt Hannibal was dealing with!  Wiping tears from his eyes, Will kept reading.

 

_ I think Will enjoyed our Italian dinner in the conservatory...dinner and a show was a good idea...Will made dinner at my invitation tonight, but I had no idea he’d make burgers and fries!...I saw Will outside in the snow this morning throwing snowballs for his dogs to chase, so I went out and joined him!  He and I had a snowball fight, and then I brought out the toboggan, and I was very glad when Will trusted me enough to go sledding with me. I let him go down on his own, but a bump sent him flying...I gave him a massage this afternoon to help with the lingering stiffness from his fall this morning,and he seemed to enjoy it… _

 

Following those entries were generic ones about their day-to-day lives, and then there was an entry talking about the movie Will had wanted to see.  Will started laughing again when he read that Hannibal had enjoyed the movie a great deal more than he’d let on. Even funnier was the statement that Hannibal had ordered the series of books that the movie had been based on!

 

_ I spoke to Alana this afternoon while Will was having his rest. _

 

Will nearly dropped the book.  Hannibal knew Alana? How…? Wait, wait, there was a connection there, he just had to figure it out.  They were both in psychiatry, so it followed that they might have met professionally, somehow. That was most likely it.

 

_ She asked how my sabbatical was going and inquired after the welfare of Will’s pets, and I assured her they were very well.  They’re with their master, after all, but that’s one thing I can never share with her. She called me to ask if she could get some advice, and of course, I promised that I would be more than willing to listen to her.  Most of her worries were about Will and her work. The FBI has a new killer they’re chasing and I can tell the strain is getting to her. I could hear Jack Crawford’s voice in the background of the call and I could tell that the strain was getting to him, too.  I listened to her description of the killer and his modus operandi and advised her as best I could. Once we got that unpleasant business out of the way, I listened to her fret about Will. She says that they still have nothing more than some blurry security footage of his kidnapper and they have no indication of whether he was still alive.  I pointed out to her that they have no indication that Will is dead and that his captor went to a great deal of trouble to take him alive. Most people in law enforcement who are murdered are killed right away--they don’t disappear for months before turning up dead. She agreed and thanked me. Poor girl. They’re working her far too hard. _

 

That was the last entry.  Will replaced the book in its drawer, turned off the light, and left the study.  As he headed upstairs, he thought. Hannibal had a phone, but Will had never seen or heard it.  If there was any chance, he wanted to find that phone. Maybe he could look for it while he tried to figure out a way to get his hands on that ladder.

 

Will got ready for bed and crawled under the comforter.  A second later his dogs joined him and they all shifted about for a while, trying to get comfortable.  Will couldn’t help feel a bit resentful that one of them was missing. Hannibal had a lot of explaining to do.

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep or dreaming, but suddenly he was awake, with his face full of a little doggy nose and a whiskery chin.  Will wasn’t prepared for the surge of emotion that hit him when he sat up, sobbed, and hugged his dog. “Buster!” He sniffed and jumped when he spotted Hannibal in the doorway.  “Hannibal?”

 

“I apologize, Will, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hannibal said quietly.  

 

Will fought down another sob.  “Hi.”

 

Hannibal came further into the room, which was what Will wanted.  “Did you have a good day?”

 

The sob hit, and concerned, Hannibal approached the bed.  Will sat there, still curled up around Buster, shaking with emotion.  “Will?”

 

Will leaned toward Hannibal, and Hannibal followed the cue and opened his arms to let Will lean against him.  In the next second, Buster had joined the rest of the pack on the bed while Will turned and did his level best to pummel his captor.  Hannibal wasn’t able to dodge the punches and went down, Will on top of him and trying to flatten him like a bloody pancake. 

 

“Never do that to me again!” Will screamed, landing a good blow to Hannibal’s face.  “Do you know what I went through today?  _ Do you? _  Do you even  _ care _ ?  You son of a fucking, drooling  _ bitch _ !”

 

Hannibal’s shock seemed to wear off then, because he began blocking blows as best he could.  He was at a bit of a disadvantage on the floor with Will on top of him, but he pulled a wrestling move that flipped Will off of him.  Will surprised him by countering it and pinning him again, and shortly they were rolling all over the floor. Will kept screaming and cursing at him, Hannibal swore once or twice in Lithuanian when Will landed an especially vicious blow, and at the end of a half-hour, both of them were bruised, bloody, and exhausted. 

 

Will was the first to recover.  He picked himself up, went to the bathroom, and got himself cleaned up.  He returned a few minutes later with a hot, damp washcloth and a cold compress for Hannibal, who sat up and took them.  He cleaned his face of blood and held the compress against his face. “I do believe that you may have broken my nose, Will.”

 

“You deserve it.”

 

Hannibal didn’t move the compress.  “Perhaps. Were you struggling with these feelings all day?”

 

“Since I read your damned letter,” Will admitted.  “I’m still pissed. Don’t you ever  _ dare _ use my dogs against me again, understand?”

 

Hannibal looked at him and then away.  “I didn’t have a choice, Will. If I had not taken Buster, you would not have hesitated to leave, and I didn’t wish you to leave.”

 

“Of course you  _ had a choice _ ,” Will snapped.  “You just made the stupid one.  You may have kidnapped me, you may be able to keep me here, but you don’t get to use my dogs like your little pawns to ensure my good behavior!”

 

Hannibal fixed him with a look.  “You’re coming close to the line, Will.”

 

“You think I care?  I’m sick of you and your stupid rules and you doing just what you please and you expecting me to go along with it!  Trust me, the first chance I have to leave, I’m taking it, and this time, you won’t be able to catch me! Once I tell Jack what you’ve done, he’s going to come after you, and I will be so damned happy when they lock you up!”

 

Hannibal stood up, his expression calm.  “I’m going to say good night, now, Will. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Will turned away from him.  “Whatever. Just go.” 

 

Hannibal left, closing the door behind him, and Will heard it lock.  It didn’t surprise him, but that sound was awfully depressing. Suddenly exhausted, Will crawled into bed, and Buster cuddled up to him, happy to be back.  His presence was more comforting than Will had thought possible, and he fell asleep shortly after that.


	19. Chapter 19

Will coughed, winced at the misery in his head, and grabbed another tissue from the box on his bedside table.  He blew his nose, wadded the used tissue up in his hand, and lobbed it into the wastebasket that he’d moved to stand beside his bed.  He settled back into his pillows and coughed again.

 

Hannibal knocked on his door and carried in his breakfast tray.  “Good morning, Will. Feeling any better?”

 

Will glared at him.  “No. I blame you for this.”

 

“I don’t think that my apologizing again will do you much good, Will,” Hannibal said, placing the tray on the bedside table.  “I regret that you are sick since I know how unpleasant illness can be, but really, you did throw yourself at me the other night to pummel me.  I can only think that our close proximity is what passed the germ to you.” 

 

“You brought it back,” Will snapped.  

 

“You’re a very cranky patient, Will.”

 

“Nah, I’m just cranky.”

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“No.”

 

Hannibal looked at the breakfast tray and fought down a sigh.  He’d made a lovely continental breakfast for Will and had arranged the plate in a cheerful, colorful, eye-catching pattern, but Will had yet to glance at it.  “Well, at least try to eat something. You need to eat so your body can fight off this illness.”

 

“Thanks, that never occurred to me.”

 

Hannibal fought down a smile at Will’s tone and patted the comforter.  “I’ll be up to check on you later.”

 

“Swell.”

 

For the past two days Will had been in bed, with a cough, fever, sore throat, and runny nose.  He felt bad enough that he didn’t want to leave his bed, and his mood was the worst it had been in a while.  He’d first started feeling off the morning after Hannibal’s return, and by that evening, he had to admit to himself that he was sick.  He’d tried going to bed early, hoping that a good, long sleep would help fight it off, but he woke up the next morning, fevered and miserable.  He was still in bed by breakfast that morning, so Hannibal had come up to check on him. He heard Will cough before he could ask what was taking Will so long, and he left, only to return a few minutes later with leather doctor’s bag.  

 

“You’re kidding,” Will said when he saw the bag.  “You have one of those?”

 

“Of course,” Hannibal assured him.  “Occasionally I will make house calls when they’re required.  That cough does not sound good, Will.”

 

“How astute of you,” Will muttered.  “Go away and let me go back to sleep.”

 

“Not until I check you over,” Hannibal insisted.  “The sooner I do, the sooner we’ll know what to do for you, and the sooner you’ll feel better.”

 

Will cracked open one eye and groaned.  “You’re not going to go away, are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Will sat up, and what followed was a medical exam, just like every one he’d had when he’d been ill.  Hannibal checked him over, listened to his breathing, took his pulse, and then told Will he could lay back down.  “So, what’s the diagnosis, doc?”

 

“An upper respiratory infection, and it sounds like an aggressive one,” Hannibal said, pulling out a prescription pad and writing on it.  “You’ll need some medicine, and a few other things. I’ll call Chiyoh.”

 

“What’re you calling her for?”

 

“She’ll be picking up the things you need,” Hannibal said.  “I can’t leave you here by yourself while you’re ill, Will.”

 

“Sure you can.”

 

Hannibal gave him a long, patient look.  “I hardly think that it will be conducive to your good health to make an escape attempt while you’re fevered, Will, and certainly not in this weather.  Please be sensible.”

 

“I had to try,” Will said.  “Fine, I’ll stay in bed.”

 

Hannibal blinked.  “Now I  _ know _ you’re ill.  I’d better get Chiyoh on the phone as soon as possible.” 

 

Will didn’t bother responding as Hannibal left.  He fell asleep shortly after that and only woke long enough to take the capsule Hannibal brought him.  “What is this?” Will asked, looking at the pill in his hand and taking the glass of water Hannibal held out to him.

 

“Amoxicillin,” Hannibal told him.  “Make sure you drink as much of that water as you can; you’re a bit dehydrated.”

 

Will did as he asked just so he could get some peace and settled back down to rest.  When Hannibal offered to read to him Will asked if he could just have some peace and quiet instead, so Hannibal let him be.  

 

Thinking back on the past two days, Will had to admit to himself that being sick while in Hannibal’s hands had to be one of the oddest experiences of his life.  Hannibal had spent the whole time waiting on Will hand and foot and doing his best to ensure Will was comfortable. What really bothered him, though, was that some part of him was enjoying having someone at his beck and call.  He didn’t have to get up for anything but the bathroom. Hannibal brought him all his meals, lots of cool drinks, warm tea, his medicines, books, magazines...he’d even offered to bring up a television set for Will to watch. Having someone do that was kind of nice, but he had to remind himself each time he saw Hannibal that the man was his kidnapper and captor.  He wasn’t supposed to like him and be thankful that Hannibal was taking care of him, but human nature could sometimes be funny that way.

 

Will sat up, thinking.  No, he’d been depending on Hannibal too much.  It would be much better if he did something on his own.  Sighing, Will got up, pulled on his robe, grabbed the tissue box, and headed downstairs.  Hannibal wasn’t in the kitchen or sitting room, so logic dictated that he would be in his study.  Will headed to the television room, placed himself on the couch, and switched on the TV after wrapping up in a fleece throw.  

 

He watched a baking show for a little while before switching over to the news.  CNN was always a good channel to watch, and the news ticker at the bottom of the screen was a great way to stay on top of news stories.  He watched a story about flooding in the Midwest, another story about a CEO in New York being charged with embezzlement, and an elementary school in Washington that was defeating all the odds by scoring the best in the state on standardized tests.  Will was about to change the channel when his eyes caught the ticker. FBI STILL HAS NO COMMENT ON HEADLESS HORSEMAN KILLER.

 

Will stared at the headline and his brain put two and two together.  Still wrapped up in his blanket, Will left the TV room and shuffled down the hall toward the study.  He knocked and waited.

 

“Come in, Will.”

 

Will opened the door.

 

“I’m surprised to see you out of bed, Will,” Hannibal said, rising from his chair.  “Fancied a jaunt?”

 

“Wanted to watch some TV,” Will said.  “Didn’t seem worth the trouble to drag it upstairs.”

 

“I would have been happy to, Will.”

 

Will shrugged and sat down on the chaise lounge.  “So, what do you think about the Headless Horseman Killer?”

 

Hannibal gave him a rueful look.  “I should have known. Any chance I could get you to decide to not discuss the topic?”

 

Will gave him a look.  “What do you think?”

 

Hannibal sat down again, giving up.  “I think Jack Crawford has his hands full.  Not only does he have his best profiler missing, he has to make do with second-best substitutes.”

 

“I can’t imagine you being second-best at anything,” Will stated.  

 

“You’ve only known me a few months, Will; give it time.”

 

“So, this killer?  Why is he called the Headless Horseman?”

 

“You can blame Freddie Lounds for that,” Hannibal said, sharpening a pencil with a scalpel.  

 

“That doesn’t surprise me.  What does this guy do, take their heads?”

 

Hannibal’s look was all the answer he needed.  “Oh.”

 

“Yes, it was quite surprising,” Hannibal admitted.  “And unsettling. At any rate, Jack has no leads yet, and as for forensic evidence, there’s hardly any.  Jack called in everyone he could think of to help him with this case, but so far, it’s at a standstill. The killer takes his victim to an isolated spot, usually a field or any wide-open area, poses them with the aid of barbed wire, and takes their head off.”

 

“Before or after death?”

 

Hannibal looked as if he wished Will hadn’t asked the question.  “Before. He makes no effort to hide the names of his victims since most of them were found with their identification still in their pockets, and their fingerprints are unobscured.  His victims are both male and female, of all physical types, and so far, no one has been able to establish a connection among them.”

 

Will thought about it.  “Do you have the file?”

 

Hannibal stared at him for a long second.  “No. No, absolutely not. You’re ill, and I brought you here so you wouldn’t have to deal with these horrors, Will.”

 

Will glared at him and raised an eyebrow.  “Uh-huh. I thought you brought me here because you wanted to do an experiment.”

 

Hannibal blinked, which was the only indication Will had that he realized his slip-up.  “That’s part of the care you’re receiving in this experiment, Will. That’s all.”

 

“I want to work on this case.”

 

“No.”

 

“If you let me see the file, then you’ll be able to tell Jack what he’s missing, the case will be over, and you won’t have to leave me again,” Will explained with a bit of impatience.  “I don’t want you to take one of my dogs hostage again just because Jack calls you to a crime scene.”

 

Hannibal held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.  “I’m not going to argue about this with you, Will. Why don’t you lie back down in the television room or your room and I’ll bring you something cool to drink, all right?”

 

Will glared again, got to his feet, and stalked out of the room.  He returned to the television room and started channel surfing, settling on a documentary about Tudor England.  He didn’t know why, but Bloody Mary suddenly seemed darned interesting. Anything was better than thinking about the argument he’d just lost.  What he really wanted to do was indulge in an old-fashioned fit that involved plenty of screaming and yelling, but he knew it wouldn’t help anything.  Hannibal would let him wear himself out, help him calm down, and then they would be back to where they’d started.

 

The most galling thing was that Hannibal was the one who held all the power.  He had Will right where he wanted him. He determined everything that Will saw and heard each day, he determined what Will ate, drank, and wore, he determined where Will slept, and he determined what Will did.  It was a bit like being in prison--as pleasant as the house and grounds were, Will was still a prisoner, and it bothered the hell out of him. He knew there were only a few ways he could improve his mental situation, but both of them came with risks.  The first was that he could escape and return to his life. An escape attempt would be risky since practically all the fits of anger he’d seen Hannibal display had been in response to Will either leaving or mentioning leaving. The second option was that he could accept being there and settle into his new life.  That was a big, fat NO in Will’s opinion. He didn’t want to stay there, he didn’t want to have someone else take care of him, and he wanted to live his own life. 

 

Another conundrum was what, exactly, Hannibal got out of this.  Had he kidnapped Will in order to quell an irrational obsession?  Had he been trying to fill some void in his own life? If so, what was it?

 

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to peace, quiet, and warmth.  At some point he’d wrapped himself up like a caterpillar in the fleece throw and the television was playing a classical music concert.  Hannibal was seated in an armchair not far from him, reading a book. “How long have I been asleep?”

 

Hannibal looked up from his book.  “About an hour and a half. Feeling any better?”

 

Will took stock and shook his head.  “Not really. How long do you think I’ll be sick?”

 

“A few more days yet,” Hannibal answered, coming over and checking his forehead for fever.  

 

“What if I get really sick?” Will asked, an unpleasant scenario occurring to him.  “What if I need a hospital?”

 

“If you need a hospital, I’ll take you,” Hannibal promised.  “As for right now, all you need is rest, plenty of fluids, and regular doses of medicine.  Speaking of which, it’s time for your next dose. I’ll be right back.”

 

Will took the medicine Hannibal brought him, and then he asked to watch a movie.  Once it ended Hannibal made him a light supper and Will ate it in the television room, watching reruns of an old sitcom.  Around nine-thirty Will went upstairs to bed and Hannibal arrived shortly afterward to read to him. They’d finished  _ Bleak House _ and now they were reading  _ Brave New World _ .  Will had glanced through it once and hadn’t finished it, but having Hannibal read it aloud to him was a completely different experience. 

 

He fell asleep and for a while, he didn’t dream.  Then, he started dreaming about headless people crowding around him, their voices echoing from nowhere, begging for his help.  He jerked awake, frightened out of his wits, and he shouted for Hannibal, crouching in his bed and shaking.

 

“Will!  What is it?”

 

Will hadn’t even heard the door open.  He threw himself at Hannibal and held on, his dogs on the floor and circling his bed, concerned.  He held onto Hannibal for a long time, shaking and doing his best not to cry, but it was a hard fight and he felt terrible.  Hannibal held onto him and kept up a barrage of quiet reassurance until Will’s fear eased. “Did you have a nightmare, Will?”

 

Will nodded, not letting go.  “Headless people were asking for my help.”

 

Will felt Hannibal’s shoulders stiffen in surprise.  “I see. Are you all right?”

 

“No.”

 

Hannibal didn’t let go of him.  Instead, he shifted so he could sit on the bed next to Will, and he simply held him.  Will scooted closer to take advantage of Hannibal’s body heat, and Hannibal surprised him even more when he picked up the comforter and wrapped the both of them in it.

 

“Warmer?” Hannibal asked once the comforter was around them.  

 

Will felt himself relax.  “Mm-hmmm.”

 

“Good.  Just focus on breathing.  You’re perfectly safe here.  There is nothing and no one here but us and your dogs.”

 

It took Will a moment to understand what he was hearing, but when he grasped it, he couldn’t believe it.  “You sing?”

 

“On occasion,” Hannibal admitted, still holding Will.  He raised his hand to smooth Will’s hair.

 

“What were you singing?”

 

“An old Lithuanian lullaby called, ‘The Hare Rocks the Cradle,’” Hannibal told him, smoothing his hair again and trailing his hand down Will’s back.  “My nurse and my mother would sing it to me when I was small, and I would sing it to my sister when she was restless. I’ve always found it very soothing, so I thought it might help calm you.”

 

Will thought about the lilting sound of the words and nodded.  “Sing some more? I like it.”

 

Hannibal kept up the quiet lullaby, and whenever Will shifted, trying to get comfortable, Hannibal shifted with him.  After about a half-hour or so, Will couldn’t fight off sleep any longer and told Hannibal that he was all right.

 

“Of course you’re all right,” Hannibal said quietly, the lullaby stopping.  “Sleep well, Will.”

 

Will rolled over and buried his head in his pillow.  He didn’t even hear Hannibal leave. 

 

He didn’t dream again and slept well into the morning, wrapped up cozily in the comforter.  When he woke, he felt rested and comfy and held close.

 

Will’s brain froze.  Held? His eyes popped open and he saw Hannibal’s face inches from his, their heads resting on the same pillow.  Hannibal was stretched out next to him on the bed, his arms around Will, both of them wrapped in the comforter. Hannibal was out for the count and Will lay there, wondering just how this had happened and if he should run for his life.

 

Hannibal’s head moved the slightest bit and Will found himself staring at him.  The last time he’d seen Hannibal so unguarded had been in the aftermath of treating the little girl for an ax wound.  Hannibal had been all but asleep then, but now he was deeply asleep and didn’t look as if he would be moving anytime soon.

 

Winston sneezed and Hannibal twitched in his sleep, and his eyes slid open.  He looked confused for a moment, but then he seemed to remember where he was.  “Good morning, Will.”

 

The matter-of-fact tone in Hannibal’s voice reassured Will somewhat.  “Morning. Couldn’t make it back to your room?”

 

“When I tried to get up, I found I couldn’t,” Hannibal said, blinking sleepily.  “Are you hungry?”

 

“No.  I want to go back to sleep.”

 

Hannibal nodded and slid out from under the comforter.  “All right. Close your eyes and get some more rest. I find I’m in need of some breakfast and coffee.”

 

Will was already falling back asleep.  “Mmm-hmmm.”

 

He felt a hand smooth his hair again before he was out.

 

Hannibal checked on him throughout the day, but Will noticed these visits grew more and more frequent.  Sometimes he would have Will sit up so Hannibal could listen to his breathing through a stethoscope. Will’s body felt odd and heavy, and he was coughing a lot.  The fatigue he was feeling was almost crushing. The concern on Hannibal’s face was a bit frightening. “Hannibal, what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t like the way you sound, Will,” Hannibal told him.  “You stay here; I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

“Don’t think I’m going anywhere right now,” Will wheezed.  His chest was starting to hurt a bit.

 

Will closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was Hannibal and Chiyoh.  A machine was on, and Hannibal was holding a mask over Will’s face. Will tried to push it away, but Hannibal refused to move it.  “Just breathe, Will. It’s medicine to help you breathe.”

 

Will didn’t have the strength to protest, and he fell asleep with the mask still over his face.  He woke up twice more, each time with Hannibal holding the mask over his mouth and nose. When he woke up a third time, the mask was gone, and he felt as if a weight had been removed from his chest.  Hannibal was in a chair next to his bed, asleep. “Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal jerked awake. “Will!  How are you feeling?”

 

“Better.  What happened?”

 

“A bit of trouble with your lungs.  Is there any history of asthma or pulmonary trouble in your family?”

 

“My grandmother,” Will said, remembering.  “Sometimes she’d wheeze, especially in the winter.”  

 

Hannibal nodded as if he’d expected that very answer.  He pulled out a stethoscope and listened to Will’s chest and back.  “Good. Very good. The breathing treatments have made a huge difference.  Any pain anywhere?”

 

Will shook his head.  “No. My body feels heavy, but that’s all.”

 

“Fatigue,” Hannibal said.  “It will fade as you recover, but it will take a few weeks before you’re back to normal.  You’ll need to be very cautious in your workouts once you’re able to be up and about.”

 

Will smiled, thinking about the many exercises he did most days in his room.  Most mornings he didn’t even think about them; he just did them. Push-ups, sit-ups, stretches, jumping jacks, and so on.  At the moment a simple sit-up seemed beyond him. He couldn’t imagine doing any of the rest of it. “No worries.”

 

With Hannibal’s help, Will made it to the bathroom to use the facilities, and at Hannibal’s insistence, he took a bath, with Hannibal stationed just outside the door in case he was needed.  Will washed, washed his hair, dried off, and dressed in the fresh pajamas that Hannibal left him. He opened the door and Hannibal returned him to his bed, which now had fresh sheets, thanks to Chiyoh.  Will settled down into his pillows and sighed. “What time is it?”

 

Hannibal glanced at his watch.  “Half-past one in the afternoon.  Would you like something to eat or drink?”

 

“A cool drink?”

 

“I’ll get it,” Hannibal said as Chiyoh rose from her chair.  “Stay with Will, please.”

 

Chiyoh re-seated herself and looked at Will as Hannibal left.  

 

“How sick was I?” Will asked as soon as he heard Hannibal making his way downstairs.

 

“Sick enough to scare him,” she admitted.  “He said if the breathing treatments didn’t work, he was going to take you to the nearest hospital and damn the consequences.”

 

Will blinked.  “He must have been really worried.”

 

“He was.”  She paused, as if thinking.  “I don’t know how much it will matter to you, but he really cares about you.”

 

“He brought me here for an experiment to refute a paper that’s been written about me, that’s all,” Will said, shifting his head on the pillow so he could look her in the eye.  “At least, that’s what he told me.”

 

A smile quirked Chiyoh’s lips.  “And you believe that? I’ve known him a long time--if he spends his time on you, then you’re well worth it.”

 

Will thought about that and decided to think about it later when he had the mental energy for it.  “What are you to him? It’s not just an employer-employee relationship, is it?”

 

“That’s not a question I’m going to answer, Mr. Graham,” she said, her voice sharpening a bit. 

 

Will nodded.  “Fair enough. Just how long have you known him?”

 

“Since we were both kids.  I worked for his aunt when he came to live with her and his uncle, and even after his uncle died and after...well, never mind...he and I stayed in touch.  It’s part of my job to look out for him whenever I can.”

 

“Even though he kidnaps people?”

 

“Even though.”

 

Will looked away from her, wondering just what else this woman had done for Hannibal.  How far would she push her scruples for him? Did she even have any? That was when he noticed the empty dog beds on the floor.  “Where are my dogs?”

 

“Downstairs, in the TV room,” she said, running her fingers over the arm of her chair.  “Hannibal took them downstairs so you could rest. He and I have been taking care of them for you.”

 

“Thank you.  Have they been behaving?”

 

For the first time, he saw a real smile on her face.  “Oh, yes. All I have to do is show them a bag of treats and they’re all over me.”

 

Will felt a smile quirk his lips.  “That sounds right.”

 

“They keep trying to sneak up here to visit you.”

 

The smile grew.  “That sounds right, too.”  Will coughed and winced. “Damn, that hurts.”

 

“Hannibal says it’s likely you may have pulled a muscle from coughing.  There were times when you were coughing in your sleep.”

 

“No wonder I hurt.”

 

Hannibal returned then with a cool drink, and a little while later, he brought up some soup in a mug and insisted that Will try to drink some of it.  Will did his best and finished half of it, and then he took a nap. 

 

Over the following week, Will took his medicines, did his breathing treatments, took a lot of naps, and ate the meals Hannibal brought him.  He tried to read, watched television, and spent plenty of time in bed, petting his dogs and enjoying having them with him. Gradually, his cough went from something painful to something that was just annoying.  Will felt as if he’d finally turned the corner in his illness when Hannibal set up a bed on the chaise for him in the conservatory and he managed to stay awake for more than an hour once he was settled in. He lay there, luxuriating in the sunshine and warmth, with his lap full of dogs, and feeling as if there was nothing more that he could want in that moment.


End file.
